The Ghost Within
by lucablue
Summary: A series of events have Dean spiraling out of control as he loses the fight against the ghost within.
1. Chapter 1

**The Ghost Within**

_**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Supernatural…obviously.**_

_**Warning: Probable language, torture and self harm in later chapters. "Forewarned is forearmed".**_

_**Summary: A series of events have Dean spiraling out of control as he loses the fight against the ghost within. **_

_**a/n: **__Whilst the story does start with this chapter (duh), the real story doesn't start until the next chapter…(trust me it'll make sense). _

_Hope you enjoy…_

_lb_

**Chapter 1 (Teaser)**

Dean Winchester cursed loudly as his beloved Impala hit the edge of a pothole. He had little room to manoeuvre the large car along the gravel road which was bordered by thick forest.

"Okay Sam so we've gotta do a binding spell and then the banishing chant right?"

"Yeah."

"Hang on Sam, just slow down with all the details – I don't know if I can understand all that jargon." Dean looked expectantly at his younger brother who was frantically comparing an old textbook to something on the laptop balanced precariously on his knee.

"Dean just, just…" Sam sighed and stopped what he was doing to look directly at Dean.

"I've gotta find the right spells and each text seems to reference these creatures a little differently. You might be able to help me here Dean, do you think it would be best to use a Celtic binding spell and a Gaelic version of a banishing chant, I mean these creatures are prolific in Irish folklore. Then again it might be a stronger weapon if both are spoken in Latin, the originating source of both incantations. What do you think?"

"I think Sammy, less talk more research. Man, how can wood fairies be so deadly, I mean we're talking fairies for God's sake!"

"Well I think we can now safely say that fairies are vicious, territorial, evil little bastards who enjoy lethal pranks."

Another 20 minutes and Dean pulled the car up alongside a Rangers' vehicle parked adjacent to a walking track.

"Damn, looks like we'll have to speed things up Sam. I didn't think we'd have to worry about company."

The boys got out of the car and looked around for the other driver. As they approached, they heard the sound of a frantic voice over the radio on the dashboard.

"Greta, Greta are you there over? If you can hear me, we're sending a search party out now so stay with the vehicle over."

Sam glanced at Dean before reaching in the open window of the 4WD and picking up the radio mike. "This is Sam Mathis, I'm a private investigator hired by the Jacobs family to look into their son's death. My brother and I have just come up on this vehicle. We can't see the driver anywhere around over."

Mr Mathis this is Ranger David Moroney, you need to stay sharp, Ranger Duncan's last message indicated that she heard something and was going to check and report back. That was an hour ago over."

"We'll have a look around in case she's hurt and get back to you. There's a walking trail right next to the vehicle so we'll start there over."

"Roger that. The Sheriff should be there in about forty minutes and I'll let him know you're on the scene over."

Sam put the radio back and walked over to the trunk of the Impala where Dean was organising what they needed. He knew they didn't have a lot of time to work with - an hour ago could already be too long. These creatures were unpredictable.

Dean had loaded two guns with salt pellets and stuffed extra rounds in his jacket pocket, handing Sam the same arsenal as well as a canister of salt. They knew salt distracted the fae and they would need a lot of distraction in order to complete a spell and a chant.

"Okay Dean I've copied out the words to both spells, don't worry about what it means just say it as I've written it."

Dean took one sheet of paper, noting Sam's scrawly handwriting and then gave a groan. "Oh man, Latin! How about I distract them you read this?"

"Trust me Dean, you'll thank me later when I show you the Gaelic version. Anyway, I've got a copy too, we both have to be prepared just in case."

The brothers hurried along the walking trail. They had been prepared for a fight but they hadn't expected another victim to be taken so soon. The others, six in all over three months, had all fallen prey to a series of unfortunate circumstances. Fallen trees, rockslides and unexplained holes in the ground which were all explained away as natural deaths by the local authorities. However, the Winchesters didn't believe in coincidences, particularly when they had discovered a fairy ritual circle alongside this track the night before.

Dean shook his head, "We should've tried to finish this last night, what if we're too late…"

"Dean we didn't have the spells, hell we only just made it out ourselves. There was nothing that pointed to fairies before we found that circle and we were lucky we had some salt rounds with us."

Dean didn't reply only quickened his pace. He knew Sam was right but he also knew this ranger was only doing her job, why should she be the one to die. They should've come back last night, after all they knew what was involved, they knew the risks and they accepted them. Last time he checked, the job description for forest rangers didn't involve dying by the hand of a wood fairy. He was actually pretty sure that their job was probably the only one that covered that particular peril.

After about twenty minutes, they came up to an area marked by taller trees closing in above their heads. The trees and smaller bushes were almost dominated by strangler vines that climbed up into the highest branches as well as covering much of the ground. The dappled sunlight which filtered through the foliage made it difficult to see too far into the surrounding forest.

Dean held his hand up and Sam nodded, both boys reaching for guns. It was just ahead they that had found the stone circle and they knew the fairies wouldn't be too far away. They crept along single file, stopping briefly to check for movement in the trees and grass which seemed to have become too still, too quiet.

On the ground ahead, two fairies sat cross legged, ragged wings fluttering absently. They were ugly looking creatures with brown shriveled skin and pointed ears and teeth. Their hair was long and wild and their bodies covered in tattered cloth of brown and green. Their presence could easily be missed, blending in with their surroundings so well, had it not been for their whispering and keening. They were so intent on their chant, they almost missed the presence of those watching them.

Almost but not quite.

Without warning, both fairies shrieked and hissed, flying straight at the brothers. Sam who was slightly behind Dean threw himself to the ground, the fairy flying straight over and then doubling back along the trail ahead. Dean was not so lucky and was met with a face full of angry fairy with razor sharp nails.

Dean lurched back but still felt sharp nails draw across his cheek and then skim down his front from shoulder to stomach. He wasted no more time and brought the gun up, firing rock salt at point blank into the creatures face. With a satisfied smirk he watched as it flew off lurching and screeching into the forest.

"C'mon Sam, you okay? We've got to find this ranger and then finish this."

"Dean you're bleeding, are you up for this?" Sam stood, trying to get a better look at Dean's injuries which of course proved impossible as Dean started jogging along the trail.

Just as Sam caught up with his brother, they heard a scream nearby and ran off the path following the sound into the small dirt clearing where the stone circle was located. At least half a dozen fairies were darting around or crouched on the ground, cackling and whispering. In the middle of the chaos, a girl lay half in, half out of the dirt frantically scrabbling, trying to find purchase in the loose soil. As each fairy chanted, the girl was dragged further into the dirt about to be buried alive.

The girl, obviously the missing ranger judging from her khaki shirt, was not giving up without a fight and was throwing anything she could find in the dirt at her attackers. Not that it seemed to be deterring them.

Sam and Dean sprang into action, startling the fae but not distracting them from their deadly game. Dean grabbed the salt canister from Sam as he removed it from his jacket and quickly began making a salt circle around his younger brother.

"Okay Sam, start reading and I'll start shooting."

Sam knew he didn't have time to argue with Dean about "the plan" but made a mental note to discuss his brother's strategy later. Sam started to read the binding spell, occasionally pausing to check on Dean or fire a salt round at a fairy that came too close.

Dean had a grin on his face as he congratulated himself on getting out of reading yet another spell. Blasting these fuglies with rock salt was much more entertaining. As he got nearer, the fairies became more aggressive obviously not wanting their victim to escape. Dean got close enough to see the girl was just about exhausted, only her shoulders, head and one arm now visible above the black soil.

"Greta, can you hear me? It's gonna be alright, we'll get you out of here okay." Dean finally crouched down beside her and placed a hand on her arm.

Greta looked up at him, he could see she was scared but he could also see strength and determination in her brown eyes. She blinked and swallowed her mouth tilting upward in a half grin.

"So you are real, thought I was imagining you along with these what…frigging fairies?"

"Yeah, well I'm Dean and that's my brother Sam and we're here to rescue you from this fractured fairytale." He grinned back at her for a moment before firing off a couple more shots.

As he watched, Greta slid another couple of inches into the ground and reached her arm out instinctively, he grabbed her hand and pulled trying to slow her descent. As soon as he looked down, two of the creatures struck him from behind, Greta's cry of alarm not enough warning for Dean to evade the attack.

They pushed him to the ground, crazily dancing and whispering around him, laughing viciously when he began to sink into the earth. Dirt stuck to the drying blood on his face as he managed to prop himself up and fire off one more round before the gun was torn from his hands as a creature flew past.

Sam was concentrating so hard he was sweating. He held the paper in one hand reading the binding spell as fast as he could. The other hand continued to fire off salt rounds which had deterred the creatures for a little while. However, whilst the salt prevented the fairies from entering, they found that they could still send things into the circle. Sam was covered in cuts and bruises from flying projectiles, the last of which had been a rather large rock which had bounced off his forehead and made him see stars.

Sam felt himself swaying, the words on the page becoming blurry as he felt the warm trickle of blood down the side of this face. He looked over to Dean and saw his brother knocked from behind into the ground, and then Dean's legs were swallowed up by the earth. Another missile caught Sam in the leg and he cried out in pain as a stick pierced his jeans and became lodged in his calf muscle. Sam sank to the ground as a wave of dizziness hit him .

Sam felt the energy of the creatures increase to an almost frantic pitch, leaves and dirt began swirling around and he saw the edges of the salt circle begin to move. The fae darted around the clearing, all of them now singing, chanting, whispering.

Sam knew he had to keep going, he finished the spell and began the banishing chant. The noise and movement of the creatures was a blur of chaos, he glanced over and could barely make out Dean and the girl in a haze of flying debris. Dust and twigs blew in his face but he kept reading, knowing a mistake now would cost them their lives. No pressure at all.

Dean felt himself pulled into the earth even deeper, his arms and chest barely above ground level. He could just reach Greta's hand and held it firmly making sure she sank no further. He looked over at Sam and watched as his brother was struck first in the head and then in the leg, ending up on the ground. He tried yelling out but the swirling dirt and dust choked off his call. He had every faith in Sam so he would just have to focus on keeping Greta above ground while Sammy finished the chant.

"Greta you still okay, it won't be much longer." Dean tried to sound reassuring.

"Just trying to get my head around this…I'm just really glad you guys arrived. I was starting to think, well I was starting to think this was gonna be my grave."

Greta suddenly screamed as a fairy landed on the ground between them, placing a hand on each of their heads and whispering in a guttural voice. Dean and Greta suddenly felt their arms and shoulders sink further until only their heads were above the soil.

"Greta, trust me okay, Sam will finish this. If you go under you have to hold your breath okay, just hold your breath you're gonna be alright."

"Dean, I don't know if I can. Don't let me die, please don't let me die."

"I promise I won't okay, you'll be fine. Trust me, please trust me and don't give up."

Dean felt himself move, the same time he saw Greta's eyes widen in fear. Neither had time to say another word as both disappeared beneath the soil.

Sam held the paper so tightly, his hand was cramping. Blood dripped from his face and down his shirt. He didn't notice another piece of debris had pierced through his shirt and drawn more blood on his arm. He blocked out the screaming and the pain as another projectile connected with the side of his head making his ears ring and he almost didn't notice that he had read the last word on the page. Then everything stopped and the silence was almost deafening.

He did notice that Dean and Greta were gone. He wondered why everything suddenly tilted – then he hit the ground and one thought screamed through his brain. Dean and Greta were gone.

Sam clumsily got to his feet and staggered out of the circle head swimming, over to where he had seen his brother last. He frantically looked around and realised the earth was broken in two distinct areas. He dropped to his knees and frantically began digging with his hands, blinking furiously as his vision doubled and his stomach lurched.

"Dean, hang on man, I'm here okay."

Sam's hand touched something warm in the earth and he grabbed what he realised was a hand. Not Dean's hand. He began panicking, clearing the dirt as quickly as he could, digging down until he cleared Greta's head. She began gasping and struggling in the ground fighting to free herself as Sam cleared the dirt from her face and mouth.

"Stop please, just stay still and breath. I've got to get my brother then I'll get you out." Sam pleaded already moving over to the other area of disturbed earth. He could hear the girl coughing uncontrollably but if she was coughing she was breathing so he didn't pause.

"Dean, I'm nearly there you better hold on 'cause I'm getting you out. You hold on Dean. Please." Sam didn't realise there were tears rolling down his face when he finally cleared Dean's head and face from the dirt. Dean eyes were closed and he didn't respond at all to Sam.

"He'll be okay. He knew you would save us. He told me I had to hold on until you got us out." Greta didn't know these boys at all but she did know trust when she saw it.

Sam dug without stopping until he had freed Dean. Greta continued talking to him, telling him to make sure Dean was alright. Sam complied, whispering her a quiet word of thanks as he checked Dean's vitals and laid him on his side. He released a breath he didn't know he was holding when he found his brother was still breathing. He quickly checked Dean's airways, grimacing as he used his shirt sleeve to wipe dirt from his brother's mouth.

'Dean c'mon man." Sam shook his brother gently by the shoulders, finally rewarded when Dean gasped and coughed, gulping in deep breaths of air. The gulps turned to coughing and spitting as Dean frantically tried to clear the remaining soil from his mouth and throat. Sam kept a hand on Dean's shoulder until he was waived off as Dean pointed to Greta.

Sam watched Dean as he dug Greta out as quickly as he could and sat her gently on the ground, relieved when his brother slowly gained control of his breathing. "Are you hurt?" Sam looked at Greta. "I know this must seem…" he paused mid sentence.

"Bizarre, unreal, nightmarish in a Stephen King kind of way. Yeah, I'm okay and thanks. Is he alright? Are you alright, you're head's bleeding pretty bad."

Their attention was turned to Dean as he sat up and looked around, wincing as his hand brushed the dirt encrusted cut on his face.

"It's okay Dean. It's finished." Sam answered the question he saw on Dean's face.

Dean visibly relaxed when he saw Greta and then turned his gaze back to his brother.

"Shit Sam, you're hurt. Let me have a look."

"Dean I'm fine, stop fussing. You're the one who ate dirt and passed out. Can you stand?"

Sam was actually starting to think that just maybe he was going to fall down before Dean but there was no way he was going to admit defeat unless he actually did fall down. He could hear Dean talking but it was fading in and out.

"Probably." Dean replied making no effort to move. "I'm not the one growing branches out of my body or leaking blood from my head." He took hold of the stick protruding from Sam's lower leg and pulled.

"Fuck Dean." Sam reached down quickly and grabbed his leg, suddenly realising Greta was there. "I'm um, I didn't mean to um…" he stammered, partly from embarrassment mostly from vertigo and the effects of a yet undetected concussion.

Greta laughed and shook her head, relief evident in her voice.

"I wouldn't worry too much about the language Sammy. You should've heard how she spoke to those fairies." Dean's chuckle ended up as a coughing fit. "Mmmm dirt." He rasped.

The three helped each other to their feet and began a slow trek back along the trail. Dean steered Sam by the elbow when he realised his brother couldn't walk a straight line, and in fact was having trouble walking at all. Concussion, Dean silently diagnosed as he berated himself for letting Sam get hurt.

There were no life threatening injuries but they were all battered from the ordeal and conversation ceased as weariness took over. As they neared the cars, the Sheriff and a search party rushed to meet them obviously relieved that everyone was alright. Greta steered the conversation, explaining what happened without giving away the actual details, because God forbid that was just not an option.

Wild dogs was a solid, believable solution and one which Greta had actually come up with herself, much to the relief of Sam. Dean had been thinking along the lines of rogue raccoon.

They gave the statements they had quickly rehearsed on the way back along the track and then got checked over by the medics who recommended that all three pay a visit to the hospital. Sam and Dean politely declined and faded into the background.

Sam glanced over as Dean drove them back to their motel. The fading sunlight still managed to send a flare of pain through Sam's skull making him squint and frown. Through the haze he watched his brother's face and wondered what was going on behind the mask.

"Dean, you okay? Really, man."

"Always Sammy. I'm always okay."

**TBC…**

_This is not a mushy, girlfriend story (shudders)._

_Read and Run – Enjoy and have fun!_

_Read and Review – I might post chapter 2! _

_lb_


	2. Chapter 2

**The Ghost Within**

_**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Supernatural…obviously.**_

_**Warning: Probable language, torture and self harm in later chapters. **_

_**Summary: A series of events have Dean spiraling out of control as he loses the fight against the ghost within. **_

_a/n: Thanks to heather03nmg, deangirl1 and mikiss for your reviews. _ _lb_

**Chapter 2**

Dean sat in a corner booth with his feet propped up on the opposite bench. He almost felt relaxed for once, and looked across at his brother who was staring intently at his laptop screen.

Sam's head still looked cut and bruised from their ordeal with the fairies two days ago. Dean had made the diagnosis that his brother had been concussed from that knock on the head which was why he had insisted they stay at their motel an extra couple of days. Even Dean felt glad for the brief break, they had been pushing themselves hard lately from job to job. Still, being tired didn't excuse being sloppy and he should've made sure Sam was out of the firing line.

"Quit staring would ya, it's creepy." Sam was looking straight at him.

"I'm just practicing my Jedi mind power on you to get me another beer. Or two." Dean absently rubbed at the healing scratch mark on his chest.

"Okay, I'll get you another beer if you have a look at this. I think it's our next gig. Couple down in Franklin reported being terrorised in their new home, kinda Amityville style. Classic poltergeist. But get this, the house has had 14 different owners over the last 100 years and it was also owned by Heath Landwin, a mass murderer in the late eighteen hundreds."

Dean raised his eyebrows and Sam grinned, knowing he had piqued his brother's interest. Sam turned the laptop around so that Dean could see the screen. He had found several newspaper articles covering each of the reported incidents, a picture of the same two storey house featuring in each story.

Sam left their table and headed to the bar without Dean even noticing. His brother was doing that a bit lately, zoning out. Sam figured that he was just tired, it caught up with them sometimes. Sam felt like he could sleep for a week, the concussion not really helping his overall fitness but he knew they would have to have a longer break soon maybe catch up with Bobby. Since their dad wasn't around any more they tended to touch base with Bobby more often, even work with him on a couple of jobs. Sam enjoyed the older man's company and insight and it seemed to take the pressure off Dean a little.

Whether Dean admitted it or not, Sam knew he felt responsible for the outcome of every job. Dean analysed any mistake they made, particularly when Sam got hurt and he took it hard if they didn't save everyone. Dean was dwelling on their failures but wouldn't open up and let Sam share the burden. Sam sighed, finally noticing his change had been placed on the counter next to the beers. As he picked the drinks up, he was surprised to hear a voice next to him.

"Hey, thought you were leaving town."

Sam grinned when he realised it was Greta, still in uniform smiling up at him. Her dark brown hair in a messy ponytail, she was holding two empty glasses and seemed almost as disheveled as she had when they had rescued her the other day.

"Yeah well, thought we'd rest up for a few days first. Not something we normally do."

"Well you did seem a little worse for wear after dealing with those um…" Greta glanced around and then looked back at Sam, "critters."

"Those critters can be a little hard to deal with at times." Sam laughed. They had given Greta a brief idea of what they did, after all she had nearly been killed by wood fairies and seemed to be dealing with it quite well. Dean had frowned at first when Sam had opened up but then acknowledged it was the right thing to do. After all Greta was the one who had come up with their cover story for the Sheriff.

"Do you want to join us, Dean's over there in the back booth." Sam pointed to where Dean was still staring at the laptop with his back to them.

"My partner and I stopped in for a beer after work and were just heading on out. I'll let him know I'm staying and I'll be with you in a minute. "Greta headed over to a table on the far side of the room where another ranger was sitting.

Sam placed the beers on the table and looked at his brother who hadn't taken his eyes off the screen. "We've got company."

"Have you started another fight Sammy? What have I told you, don't start trouble until after you've finished drinking not before. It always ends in tears and someone's beer always gets spilt."

Greta arrived before Sam had a chance to reply, placing another two beers on the table. "I don't think I really thanked you guys properly the other day, I think I was still a bit flustered, which by the way doesn't normally happen to me. Anyway, I owe you my life and it's really not fair that I can't tell anyone about it."

"It's okay Greta, like we told you, that's just how it is." Sam gestured for Greta to sit then sat down next to her.

"We don't expect any thanks but hey it's nice to hear for a change. Most people would be in the loony bin or in denial at this stage." Dean looked straight across the table at her then shook his head. "I'm impressed, you seem to be pretty sane."

"Yeah well looks can be deceiving. How long are you staying in town?"

"Probably move on out tomorrow, what do you say Sam? That head of yours working properly yet?"

The three sat at the table talking easily for nearly two hours, Greta's fairly dry sense of humour getting the better of Dean on several occasions much to Sam's surprise. It was good to talk with someone around their own age about normal things, although Greta had a few questions about the creatures they had faced. Dean had been somewhat reluctant at first to join in but whether it was the beers or Greta's easy manner, Sam could tell his brother was enjoying himself now.

Sam felt his eyes start to get heavier and the beginning of the headache that had hounded him the last few evenings from the concussion. It was becoming more of an effort to concentrate on the conversation but he had put off saying anything 'cause he knew Dean would want to get him back to the motel to rest. The throbbing behind his eyes however was now getting worse and he had to come up with a plan.

"Dean I think I'm gonna go take some painkillers, how about I come back and pick you up in a couple of hours?" Sam finally suggested.

"No Sam, your head's been worse at night I don't want you coming back later. We'll get going."

"I'm sorry, I've been rambling on and probably bored you two to tears." Greta added a little self consciously. "To tell you the truth it's really nice to have someone new to talk to, we don't get that many people though here." She looked at Sam, "This has been really great but you need to go and look after yourself."

Sam had a brainwave. "Greta, as long as you don't mind, could you drop Dean off when you guys have had enough? We staying not far from here and that way, you get the conversation and I get peace." Sam stood up waiting fro Greta to reply and hoping to make an escape before Dean could argue.

"I don't mind as long as Dean's okay with it."

"I don't know Sam, I would prefer…"

"For Gods sake Dean, I'm not two years old – I think I'm capable of driving for twenty minutes with a slight headache and then getting myself into bed. Besides, I can call you if anything happens okay."

Sam watched Dean's face go through a gamut of emotions in less than a minute. "Dean, honestly man I just want to crash and I think we could both use a little personal space. I'll see you later Greta, behave yourself Dean!" Sam grabbed his jacket from the chair and turned to leave.

"Okay Sam, I'll catch you later." Dean watched as Sam walked away and out the door. He knew his brother was trying to get him to relax and switch off for a while and actually thought the ploy was working. There was something about this girl, not the normal superficial attraction although she was pretty. Greta seemed to make him feel like he could just be himself and not some fictional character he had to assume to gain information about a job. It helped that she knew what they did, that was a bit of an icebreaker but just to have a normal conversation without a hidden agenda was almost a relief.

Greta insisted Dean call Sam after about half an hour so they could both relax knowing he had made it back to the motel okay. After singing a lullaby over the phone and receiving a few choice words from Sam about splitting his head open with the noise, they resumed talking and laughing, passing another few hours away without really noticing.

It was around nine o'clock when Greta received a call, barely hearing her ring tone above the fairly lively night time crowd that had gathered. She motioned to Dean that she couldn't hear and ducked out the front door to take the call. Dean sat back and finished his beer, thinking they should probably hit the road soon. He had a bit of a buzz going and decided he didn't really want a hangover in the morning and Greta would probably have to start early in her line of work.

After about five minutes, Greta came back in and walked quickly over to the table. "Dean, I'm sorry but I'll have to drop you back at the motel, my boss wants me to check on some reports of a fire on the edge of Badgers Reserve. It's on my way home and there's no one else available who's nearby the area. My partner David, lives out the other side of town so at the moment I guess I'm it!"

"Are you sure, I mean do you normally work solo for these things?"

"It's just a drive-by report, I'll radio it in if we need emergency services. It's just that they're in the next town over so we try not to call them if it's a false alarm. Saves time and paperwork."

"Okay but I'm coming, just for the drive. You never know what's out there."

"Well actually I do know what's out there now, unfortunately. I used to enjoy hiking but I think I'll be a little paranoid from now on." Greta paused and looked at Dean, who had stood up. "Dean I'm a big girl and this is my job, you don't have to watch my back you know."

"I know but maybe I just want to okay. After all your back's not that bad to look at, for a ranger!" Dean grinned and raised his eyebrows as his eyes checked out her butt.

"Okay, fine let's go – I'll double back and drop you at the motel after we've checked this thing out. I sure don't mind the company but just for the record, I'm in charge on this job so I'll be watching your...back." Greta returned the mischievous grin with one of her own as they walked out the door and headed for her vehicle.

Greta radioed in their location and estimated they would be at the site in about thirty minutes. The traveled on bitumen roads then turned onto an unpaved service road that sloped downwards into the forest.

"Who the hell could see down here to report a fire at night?" Dean queried looking around for any sign of civilization.

Greta pointed back the way they had come and up to a ridge barely visible at night, that had previously gone unnoticed by Dean. "There's quite a few properties up there that overlook the forest, mainly cattle farms."

Dean squinted and could just make out a few lights, scattered pinpricks amongst the blackness. "Okay next question, who the hell would be out here lighting fires at this time of night?"

"Well we might just be a small town but we still have our share of hooligans and trouble makers y'know, bored kids mainly."

"I don't see any signs of a fire." Dean commented as Greta slowed the 4WD to a stop. "Maybe they… there over there." Dean pointed down into the forest. "I saw a moving light, there it is again."

"I see it." Greta confirmed picking the radio up. "Damn, someone's out there. I'm pretty sure that was a torch."

"Yeah it was, they seemed to be heading further into the forest."

"I'll call it in and we'll have to check it out in the morning. Probably just a local poacher."

"You don't want to check it out now? Correct me if I'm wrong but I don't think sneaky torch person will still be around when the sun comes up."

"I know Dean but that's not how we do it. I'll come back with David in the morning and we'll call the Sheriff if there's anything to report. Not much we can do now anyway. I've got torches and supplies but it's too dark and too dangerous."

Dean shrugged. "Your job, your call." He wanted more than anything to find out what this person was up to but hang on, reality check. He had no gun, no weapons of any kind and most importantly no Sam. Dean sighed and sat back in his seat, there wasn't even much chance it was anything supernatural so he would let it rest.

Greta called in what they had seen and they had just reached the bitumen road again when the call came over the radio. "Greta, you still there over?'

"Yeah boss, what's up over?"

"We just had a call from Booney, Carly's missing. He said Beth went to check on her and her window was open and she's gone. Her dog didn't come home tonight and she wanted to look for it but he told her to wait until morning, so she went to bed early too upset to eat dinner. They've checked their property but haven't found a sign of her. They reckon it's been about two hours since she went to bed. Any chance it could be her over."

"Oh hell, yeah it could be, all we saw was a torchlight. She could've made it down the ridge in under two hours, she knows this area pretty good. I'll head back down and see if we can call out to her. I'm sure she'll answer if she knows it's me. I'll let you know over."

"Roger that Greta, be careful. Both of you be careful, I don't want another civilian wandering around lost in the forest over."

"It's okay, I won't loose the unpaid help over." Greta's smile didn't last as she turned to look at Dean with serious eyes. "I'm sorry, I can't leave if it's her, I have to check. She's only nine years old Dean, she's got to be scared but she's so stubborn and so attached to her dog, it's a golden retriever Lilly."

"Let's get going, I'm sure we'll find her and have her safe back in her bed in no time." Dean assured.

When they returned to the edge of the forest along the service road, there was no sign of the torch. Greta grabbed a backpack from the rear of the vehicle and after arming themselves with torches they started into the forest calling the girl's name. The plan was to head in the direction they had last see the torch but not to go in too far. Greta had switched on the spotlight which was attached to the roof of the ranger's vehicle and they used it as a guide to keep their bearings.

Dean thought of calling Sam, telling him what was happening but he didn't want to wake his brother who would be asleep for sure by now. Sam would only worry and want to come and help and Dean knew Sam needed to rest. He knew Sam wasn't letting on how much his head was hurting but Dean has suffered enough concussions to know they sucked the life out of you for days. No, he would fill Sam in on the details in the morning.

They had been calling Carly's name now for about half an hour and had traveled so far in that they could barely make out the haze of light made by the vehicle's spotlight. Dean could hear the stress and worry in Greta's voice but they had absolutely nothing to go on now, they could be miles from the girl if it was really her they saw when they first arrived.

Greta finally stopped and looked back the way they had come, taking out her phone. 'I guess we should head back and see if there's any updates, I can't get a signal out here to make the call."

Dean checked his phone just in case and found the same. "Okay, maybe they've found her hiding some place, kids are really good at that. It wouldn't be the first time, wait…did you hear that?" he held his hand up.

Barking, it was a dog barking. Dean looked at Greta and pointed into the forest, 'It's coming from down there. Let's go."

Neither hesitated, now certain they were on the right track. After stumbling through the undergrowth which had started to become thicker, they reached the side of a hill with a boarded entrance marked by several warning signs. Two of the lower boards lay on the ground, creating a small entrance into the darkness.

"What's this, a mine shaft?" Dean queried.

"No it's a small cave system that was closed off a few years ago. We used to run tours until it became unstable after some bad flooding in the area. A lot of the caves have been closed off by rock falls. Now, we inspect it yearly for erosion, make sure the effects aren't spreading along the water channel."

The barking could again be heard and it was distinctly coming from the caves. Closely following the barking, there was a rumble and then the scream of a very frightened child.

"Shit she's inside. I'll go in and get her out. How big are these things?"

"Dean you're not going in, please let me do my job. Besides, I know these caves and I can't have you getting lost too."

"Okay fine, we both go." Dean walked up to the entrance and removed another couple of boards so they could climb through. "Ladies first." He gestured.

Greta sighed, there was no time to argue and she trusted Dean's instincts so she ducked under the boards. "Stay close."

"Yes maam!"

Dean didn't really understand why he trusted Greta but he did – he even liked her. It was cool that she hadn't flipped out, hadn't told anyone about their secret life. It would be good to spend a few more days just hanging out, pretending to be normal. Christ who was he kidding, they weren't anywhere near normal…but maybe he could forget for a little while at least.

It was pitch black inside without even the illumination of the moon and their torches cut through the darkness creating eerie shadows along the cave walls. The air was freezing and the silence was broken by the sound of dripping water. Dean followed Greta checking behind him regularly out of habit, used to being on the lookout for an angry spirit or some other creature that was determined to attack. He couldn't quite accept the fact that this wasn't a normal hunt and he constantly had to remind himself not to keep looking around for Sam.

A scrabbling sound came from ahead and Greta paused, shining her torch ahead along the passage. Something was coming towards them fast and Dean was already pushing past Greta as she screamed in alarm. Two red eyes suddenly glared at them illuminated by the torch, followed by a gleaming near white body with a tail that was wagging frantically. The dog barked and bounded up to them sitting expectantly in front of Dean.

"Okay, I think I'm having a Lassie moment." He stared back at the dog.

"Lilly's a golden retriever Dean, a gundog, so she's pretty smart. Start walking, she'll probably lead us to Carly."

"Okay I can work with that. A gundog huh? Now that might come in handy."

The dog stayed with them for several feet then began sniffing the ground and trotting along in front of them faster. Dean and Greta almost had to jog to keep the dog in sight but they came to a sudden stop when they rounded a corner and found themselves surrounded by settling dust. The main passageway branched off to the side where it was apparent part of the roof had recently collapsed. The dog ducked into the smaller side passage and weaved her way through the fallen rocks until she disappeared.

"Shit this is new." Greta shone her torch into the settling dust. "I don't know how stable this is but I can't just leave if Carly's inside. I'm gonna try and get through."

"It's okay, we'll get her out, c'mon." Dean started moving in the direction the dog had gone.

They both moved cautiously, stepping over and around chunks of rock whilst trying not to create too much noise and disturbance. They came to a narrow opening and both managed to squeeze through finding Lilly sitting on the other side next to a small mound of fallen debris. As Dean approached, he saw something red through the darker rocks and realised it was a small shoe.

"She's here Greta." He knelt down quickly shining the torch along the rubble and was relieved to find the little girl's head and shoulders lying clear of the rocks.

Greta gently pushed the dog aside and checked the child's vitals. "Thank God she's still breathing, I thought she…" Greta didn't finish but Dean heard the emotion in her voice.

"Protect her head and hold her steady while I get this stuff off her." Dean began to move the rocks and dirt going as fast as he dared. They had to get the kid out, no telling how badly she was hurt. His hands and arms became bloodied and scraped but he didn't pause, he didn't even notice he was so focused on the task.

Dean was nearly finished when Carly began to stir, softly crying for her mother with tears rolling down her dusty face. Greta soothed her, talking quietly until Dean was done. Lilly sat nearby and watched solemnly.

Dean stood and removed his jacket, placing it around the girl like a blanket. The sooner they got out of here the better. He picked Carly up and took her over to the mouth of the cave, reaching through the rocks and placing her gently on the ground. Lilly followed him and dropped to the ground beside the girl, her muzzle on Carly's arm. Dean shook his head and smiled, that was some dog. He turned and went back in the cave to make sure Greta climbed through safely.

Greta was just grabbing her backpack and had already retrieved Dean's torch. "Okay let's get her out of here. Thanks Dean." She smiled and held his torch out for him to take.

That was the last thing they did.

Without warning, another part of the ceiling collapsed.

When the dust settled there was only stillness and silence.

TBC…


	3. Chapter 3

**The Ghost Within**

_**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Supernatural…obviously.**_

_a/n: Just to let you know that I couldn't update Chapter 3 so I ended up deleting the story and reposting it. (I have been on the road for 6 days straight with few mod cons so have minimal patience at this stage to work out what went wrong.)_

_There were no changes to Chapters 1 and 2. _

_For my lovely reviewers, I saved your kind words in a seperate doc so I wouldn't lose them. I have taken the advice of deangirl1 and changed the rating as well - I'll post chapter warnings if things get out of hand._

_Hope you enjoy..._

_lb_

**Chapter 3**

Sam finally sank down on his bed. His heading was throbbing nicely now, the pain too intense to stare at the laptop or even the television. He reached over and switched off the bedside lamp, breathing a sigh of relief as the darkness soothed his head for a moment. He grinned as he thought of the raucous and twisted version of 'Twinkle, twinkle little Sam' that Dean and Greta had sung over the phone. It was so good to see his brother relax and have some fun, some normal fun. It was just so good to see Dean happy.

Sam closed his eyes and let the painkillers do their work.

Christ would someone turn that noise off - music, it was music but he wished to hell it would go away. The sound seemed distant but he couldn't ignore it. "Dean turn it off."

Dean wasn't there. Sam sat up quickly, too quickly as his thoughts fell into place. Dean wasn't there and his phone was ringing. The room was still dark and he fumbled for the small ringing, glowing object on the bedside table and then flicked on the lamp. "Hello."

"Hello, is this Sam Mathis?"

"Yes, who's asking?" Sam racked his brain for a list of those he had provided with this name and number.

"This is Sheriff Mackie son, I got your number from Ben Jacobs he said you were doing some work for him."

Okay that explanation made sense but Sam didn't like the way the Sheriff just called him son, he didn't like the sympathetic voice, the voice that just screamed the Sheriff was feeling sorry for him. That usually only meant one thing.

"What's wrong Sheriff, it's…" Sam glanced down at his watch, "three in the morning." Sam was already standing, ignoring the headache that had come bounding back from nowhere to find him.

A pause. God a pause was never good but Sam wasn't really sure if he wanted the pause to end.

"Sheriff…?"

"Son there's been an accident, I don't know all the details but it appears your brother was helping Ranger Duncan - Greta, look for a missing girl. There's been a cave in and we're pretty sure they were both inside."

"What? Is he, is he alright? I'll be right there where are you?"

A quiet calm took over Sam as he took the directions from the Sheriff, and quickly got dressed and jumped in the car. How could this have happened, they weren't even on a job. Dean would be fine, he always was…well that wasn't exactly true. Dean always said he was fine but Sam knew the game, more than even Dean realised.

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Sam drove fast, he had to get to Dean. This wasn't how it worked, they were normally at each others side when things went pear shaped so this, this was just not right. What the hell were they doing in a cave at night, Dean should have called him. "Please Dean, be okay." Sam whispered without even knowing.

Sam reached the beginning of the service track marked by a police car with lights flashing. An officer waved him to a stop, before giving him further directions. The Sheriff was waiting for him and he jerked the car to a stop and ran over.

There was a flurry of activity all around as lights were being set up around both the cave entrance and two ambulances which had already arrived. The Sheriff filled Sam in on what had happened and he then began to realise why Dean and Greta had gone in alone. A little girl was missing, Dean wouldn't care whether it was supernatural or not but he wouldn't have wanted to wait.

"When the ranger's office got no response and we came out to check, we found Greta's vehicle with the floodlights on and then we came across the girl's dog. It was barking and carrying on and led my officers down here. They've just found the girl inside and they're taking a stretcher in to bring her out. Looks like another part of the cave has come down."

"Have they found Dean or Greta, let me help, let me go in."

"The ranger who found the girl said someone had wrapped her in a jacket – she was like that when he found her. Let them do their job son."

A sudden increase in activity around the cave entrance stopped further conversation as Sam and the Sheriff ran over. Two paramedics came out with a small girl on the stretcher and a man and sobbing woman pushed past to be with her. Sam backed off a bit to get out of the way but not before seeing the leather jacket cradling the girl's shoulders. Dean's jacket.

A ranger came out behind the paramedics running over to the Sheriff, "We've found them but it looks like they're both hurt bad. We're gonna need some equipment in there real fast to get them out."

"Whatever you need." The Sheriff started barking orders.

"How bad, what's wrong with them? My brother..." Sam could barely get the words out.

"We can't get right into the cave to check but the medic could see that he was breathing. We're not sure about Greta yet."

Sam clung to the one piece of information he had so desperately wanted to hear – Dean was alive. His mind didn't really want to process the other bit – badly hurt. God they had no idea how tough his brother was, Dean would never refer to himself as badly hurt so Sam scoffed at the idea. He just hoped to God that Greta was as resilient as Dean.

Sam watched uselessly as a rescue crew went inside the entrance, he stood staring at the dark space willing Dean to appear. He realised then how much he just wanted to see Dean, how much he wanted Dean to be alright. Sam felt like he couldn't breathe and barely noticed when the Sheriff sent a junior officer over with a blanket which was draped over his shoulders with some difficulty by the shorter constable.

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Dean looked at Greta's smile as he reached for his torch, they had done really well – found the girl alive, even the dog. He saw the same thing in Greta's eyes that he felt, relief. Then all he saw was fear. Then nothing.

Dean slowly became conscious of his breathing. Inhale, rasp, pain, exhale, rasp, pain – then repeat. There was dirt in his mouth and when he dared open his eyelids he felt grit in his eyes as well. It was so dark and he felt so heavy he hadn't even tried to move yet. Dean remembered seeing Greta only a few feet in front of him, smiling then…then the ceiling had collapsed.

Dean lifted his head a little trying to look around, he saw the dim light of a torch nearby just before a white hot pain went along his back and cleared any coherent thoughts for a few minutes. "Greta…Greta can you hear me?'

Dean moved a little more cautiously this time, trying to gauge his injuries. He could move his right arm and even his leg a little but his left side seemed to be pinned pretty good. From the pressure bearing down on him it had to be a fair size rock or a lot of rubble, either way it was gonna be a bitch to move. He used his hand to support his head this time, propping his elbow in the gravel and ignoring the wet, stickiness that seemed to cover a lot of his face.

The torch gave off enough light to make Dean want to close his eyes but he knew he couldn't. He wouldn't turn away from her until he was certain there was no chance, until he was sure there was nothing he could do. He moved his right arm slowly above his head, grasping the object on the dirt between them and flicking it on. After stuttering for a couple of seconds the torch beam shone strongly.

Dean shone the torch on Greta's face trying to discern any movement when her eyes suddenly blinked in the glare and he quickly moved the beam.

"Greta hey, are you with me?"

"Greta, it's Dean can you hear me?" He put the torch down, still on, and reached his arm over to her as far as he could, falling short by inches.

She squinted at him, looking confused. "Dean? Dean I thought it was over, you said it was over. Are they gone now? "I don't want to die here."

It took Dean a minute to realise that Greta was talking about the wood fairies, she must think they were still being attacked. "They've gone now, they're not gonna hurt you now. Do you remember the cave Greta, saving Carly?" Dean hoped to God Carly was safe, he prayed he had put her far enough outside the cave so she was alright.

Greta's breath hitched and she coughed, a wet sound that made her moan. Dean shone the torch along the massive rock that lay on top of her. His mouth went dry when he saw the dark red stain that was spreading out from beneath the rock and slowly trickling down to where he lay.

"Greta it's okay, can you reach my hand?"

"Dean I can't move, I can't feel anything I'm just cold. Did we save her, did we save Carly?"

"Yeah Greta we did, she's gonna be fine." Dean hoped it was true but was thankful Greta at least remembered why there were here. "You've just gotta hang on like you did last time, be strong okay. Please Greta."

"I trust you Dean but it's okay it doesn't hurt. Please don't let me die." She whispered.

"Greta, Greta?" Dean shone the torch on her face. Her eyes were open wide, still looking at him, a thin trickle of blood ran down from her mouth. He felt the hot tears on his face, she trusted him and he couldn't do anything. "Stay with me Greta, don't you die."

"No, no, no." Dean didn't care that his body was broken and trapped, he had to reach her, had to give her some comfort. She trusted him, he had to save her, she was waiting for him to help her. The pool of blood had seeped through the soil and now touched his hand and arm, so much blood. He tried frantically to move away from it, to hold her hand. There was too much blood.

He raised his head and right shoulder and clawed at the ground pushing with his right foot. The pain hit him with such force so quickly he didn't even scream as his body spasmed then lay still.

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Sam felt like a bucket of ice water had been thrown over him when a stretcher finally appeared from the cave mouth. It had been nearly three hours since he first arrived but the rescue crew had to work slowly because the cave formation was so unstable. They had placed pre fabricated steel formwork inside the tunnel as they went, to shore it up and make certain they didn't get trapped inside.

Word had been sent out over an hour ago that Greta was dead but they were still working on freeing her body. Dean was still alive but unconscious and they were trying to get him out without further injury. The Sheriff himself stood with Sam watching him carefully, afraid the boy would suddenly make a dash inside the cave to be with his brother. The Sheriff had known Greta since she was a girl and felt numb when he heard she was gone. He also felt proud of her and these other young men who had now twice in as many days put themselves at risk for others. Finally there was movement coming out of the cave. He sighed as he walked forward with Sam, there was still a lot of good in the world after all.

"God, Dean?' Sam pulled up short of the stretcher as they hurried past. His brother face was covered in blood, as was the stretcher under his head and torso. Dean's body was covered in pressure bandages and purple black bruises. They had already placed him in a neck brace and were now hooking him up to a heart monitor in the back of the ambulance. The doors began to close, "No wait I have to go with him."

"Sorry son, he's critical and we need to stabilize him – meet us at the hospital. I'm sorry." The doors closed and the ambulance took off.

"C'mon Sam I'll take you to the hospital. Trust me we'll get there right behind them."

Sam only hesitated for a second at the Sheriffs offer. "My car, my brother's car, he'll kill me if…" Sam began automatically then stopped. "Let's go."

True to his word the Sheriff, sirens blazing, pulled in at the emergency entrance just as they were unloading Dean's stretcher.

Sam was at Dean's side in an instant but couldn't even touch his brother too fearful of causing him more pain. "Dean, Dean it's Sam please wake up man. Please be alright…"

Sam felt a hand gently hold his arm, stopping his progress as the gurney was wheeled away from him. Wild and angry eyes turned on the owner of the hand but they softened as reality dawned on him.

"He's in good hands. I'll take you to the ICU lounge and I'll let you know as soon as we hear anything." The nurse smiled.

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Sam felt like he was floating, no hot no cold no pain no caring. He saw Dean laughing, cracking another lame joke. He saw Dean's face when he realised his hand was glued to the beer bottle, he saw Dean's worried face over him when he was being strangled in Lawrence, he saw Dean's face covered in blood. Sam woke up with a start.

Sam didn't know how long he had sat there, he stared blankly at his watch 10-10am – what did that even mean? Dean must be okay, they would have told him by now if, if he was, if he wasn't okay. He closed his eyes briefly but kept replaying the image of Dean on the stretcher. So much blood. Sam tiredly rubbed a hand through his hair.

"Mr Mathis, you can see your brother now, he's out of surgery and being settled in a room. Doctor Brown will have a word with you when you get there."

Sam took no notice of the corridors they walked and absently offered his hand to Doctor Brown when he was introduced. "Mr Mathis, Dean is stable at the moment although he hasn't regained consciousness. He has suffered extensive bruising and some internal bleeding but remarkably only two broken bones - left wrist and one rib. The rock that fell on him also pierced his side but didn't damage any organs although he lost a lot of blood. His left leg has some muscle damage and severe bruising." The Doctor seemed to hesitate, looking at Sam to see if he was understanding the information.

"Will he be alright I mean, will he recover okay from all of this? There was so much blood." Sam looked at the Doctor wanting a simple assurance to cling to, needing to hear someone tell him Dean would be alright.

Mr Mathis…"

"Sam, it's Sam."

"Sam, our biggest concern at the moment is Dean's head injury. His other injuries will heal with time and rest but we never fully know what we're dealing with regarding head trauma until the patient wakes up. Now all his signs are good, he's had a blood transfusion and we've got him on painkillers through the IV but it's a waiting game now. He's in good hands, and I'll let you know of any changes."

"Can I stay with him? Please." Sam was ready for a fight, he had to be at his brothers side now. He had to be there to tell Dean to wake up because sometimes Dean needed to hear it and there was no one else to tell him. Sometimes Dean needed to be reminded to save himself because Dean tended to forget to do that part or he chose not to but Sam was on the case now.

"I'll have one of the nurses bring a cot in, you need to get some rest too." Doctor Brown walked off down the corridor.

Sam's mouth was still open, ready to fight against leaving Dean alone when he realised what the Doctor had said. "Thanks."

Sam didn't hesitate outside the door any longer, he needed to see Dean. He took a deep breath when he walked in, unable to help the moisture that threatened to leak from his eyes when he saw Dean lying there.

The blood was gone, replaced by bandages on his arms and chest and across his head. Angry bruises covered Dean's face, chest and left arm from his shoulder down to the wrist cast.

Sam walked over and sat in the chair by Dean's bed gently placing his hand over his brother's right hand, one of the few places that seemed to be relatively unscathed saved for some minor cuts.

"I'm here now Dean and I'm not going anywhere. You're going to be okay but I need you to wake up, I need you here."

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Sam now knew it took a week for some bruises to change from purple to black to brown green then to yellow, the bad ones seemed to take longer. Most of Dean's were the bad ones and hadn't really changed from purple black in colour. Sam also knew it took about a week for cuts and gashes to scab over and start healing. It also took a week for stitches to mend the skin together enough before they were taken out, some of Deans stitches were still in though because it takes longer when it's a deep cut.

Sam also realised after watching Dean lie there without moving, that it took about a week for his brother to waste away enough for his ribs and shoulder blades and hips to stick out. Although one hip and above was still covered in gauze until the stitches were removed, Sam guessed it looked just as bony as the other.

Anyone watching Sam would have noticed after a week of worrying over his brother, he looked like he should be in hospital. His eyes were windows to the fact that he had seen far too many horrors and far too much pain.

Sam had just sat down on the cot in Dean's room after calling Bobby with an update and grabbing a coffee from the vending machine in the waiting room. Sam had called Bobby the day after Dean had been admitted and Bobby had insisted Sam call him every afternoon whether there was a change or not. Bobby was Sam's lifeline at the moment, even if Sam didn't realise it, Bobby seemed to and he was up for it. Although Sam insisted there was no need for Bobby to drive 7 hours across the country, Bobby would be there if required. That was enough for Sam.

Sam almost dropped his coffee as he automatically checked over Dean's injuries for any change and came to rest on a pair of green eyes watching him, blinking slowly.

Sam put his coffee on the table and leaned over his brother. "Dean, it's Sam. Dean can you hear me?" Sam wanted to laugh and cry at the same time as he pushed the button for the nurse.

"Sam?" Dean's voice was sandpaper dry and barely above a whisper.

"Yeah Dean, it's okay you're okay now." Sam was shaking with relief now as he offered Dean a sip of water through a straw.

Within minutes, Doctor Brown and several nurses were going over Dean's charts and checking and rechecking his vitals, asking him what pain he was in and what he could move. Sam sat by the bed happy to wait whilst the doctor made sure Dean was okay.

Sam knew Dean would be exhausted, he had been severely injured and then unconscious for a week, baffling even the doctors. However Sam started to feel uneasy when Dean indicated to the doctor he had no memory of what happened in the cave or even searching for the lost child. Dean didn't even seem concerned as to how he had been hurt. Worst still, Dean didn't seem to react at all when Doctor Brown told him the little girl was alive but they couldn't save Greta.

"Don't worry Dean, not remembering a traumatic event is fairly normal, it may come back over time. The important thing is that apart from that day, your memory seems fine and you're making a good recovery. I would like to keep you here another couple of days though just to make sure." Doctor Brown placed Dean's chart back on the clip at the end of the bed. "We'll run a few more tests and then that should be it. Do you have any questions?"

"No."

"Okay, well I'll check on you again later." Doctor Brown gave them both a smile as he left the room.

Sam looked back at his brother who hadn't made any attempt to move or talk, he just lay there head turned away from Sam facing the wall. Sam placed a hand on Dean's arm. "Dean what is it, are you in pain?"

"No Sam, I'm fine."

"Dean, you know you saved that little girl's life, you and Greta saved her. She's still in the hospital but she's gonna be okay. I'm so sorry about Greta, she was so easy to talk to and you two seemed…"

I trust you Dean. Don't let me die. Dean frowned and shook his head a little. "Sam I hardly remember her, which is probably a good thing seeing as she's dead. I need to get out of here."

Sam was momentarily lost for words at the harshness of Dean's tone but then Dean's last sentence hit home. "What! You can't be serious Dean, you've just woken up after a week, you haven't even stood up and you wanna check out AMA! I don't think so."

"I wasn't asking Sam. I need to leave now." Dean slowly sat up, his face paling even more as Sam watched his brother clench his jaw against the obvious agony he was in. Dean tried to swing his legs to the side of the bed but clutched his left side and stopped. Sam was resolutely not moving an inch to assist Dean in his idiot plan but was at his brothers' side in an instant when the pain stopped his progress.

"Dean please, just wait another day or two and I'll help you walk out the door. I'm gonna see if the Doc can give you something more for the pain, I'll be back in a sec."

Dean closed his eyes and nodded. His body was betraying him, letting the pain get in the way but worse, his mind was trying to crush his walls with flashes of her smiling face, her vacant eyes looking at him. Waiting for him to save her. He had to shut it down, shut it out and bury it deep. He welcomed the numbness when he felt the drugs enter his system. He put up no fight at all as he felt his eyes close, he felt nothing as he saw his brother's tired face looking at him telling him it was okay. 'Cause really it wasn't.

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Sam sighed and leaned back against the wall of Dean's room watching as the nurse re-bandaged Dean's left leg. After further tests and x-rays showed the injuries were healing, Dean had insisted on getting up and walking around even though it was still only 20 hours since he had woken up. Sam was still dismayed at the extent of the bruising on Dean's body and wished to God his brother would wait another day but Sam had already argued this point and failed. Dean was determined to leave the next day and Sam was at a loss to understand the urgency, especially since their insurance was still good and the local Sheriff actually thought Dean was a hero.

The IV in his arm had already been removed and the nurse had gone to get Dean a crutch for balance. Doctor Brown had not been particularly pleased when Sam had indicated that his brother was checking out the next day but he also knew a lost battle when he saw one. Instead of fighting Dean he was trying to prepare him and insisted that if Dean was going to try walking a little he needed a crutch.

Sam took this opportunity to crouch down in front of his brother, "Dean if you're gonna do this please don't overdo it okay. I know something's wrong and I get you don't want to talk to me but please don't hurt yourself. I…"

Dean shook his head slowly. "Sam don't, please don't. I'm okay I just need to get out of here. We've been here too long and I just want to leave – let me do this."

Sam didn't know what to say, didn't know how to argue with Dean when he was like this, pleading almost. Sam stood, looking at Dean who wouldn't make eye contact. "Okay but you've gotta let me help you."

The nurse returned and adjusted the wooden crutch to the right height then Dean was finally standing with one crutch under his right arm. As he couldn't hold a crutch in his left hand because of the cast, the Doctor had decided one older style crutch would be better suited for balance.

Dean moved forward slowly across the floor, the nurse and Sam on either side of him matching his progress. His left leg was stiff and the muscles protested each movement but he kept going. His whole left side was on fire, and he felt a sheen of sweat on his forehead but he gritted his teeth and kept going.

She trusted you. She's dead. Dean felt a shiver go down his spine, he had to leave this place. His mouth was dry and he felt himself breathing heavily, God it hurt. It was supposed to hurt that was the whole point, he deserved to hurt.

Sam was actually surprised by Dean's progress, his brother seemed to be putting weight on his left leg without too much pain. Dean seemed to be moving too well for someone who had these injuries and Sam realised Dean was blocking it out. He realised Dean was blocking everything out when the nurse spoke to him and Dean didn't respond just hobbled forward another few steps then stopped abruptly, eyes closed tightly.

Sam placed a hand under Dean's good arm and gently helped him turn around. "C'mon Dean, just go slowly and then have a rest before you fall down."

"That was good Dean but you can't push yourself too much. You can try again this afternoon if you're up for it." The nurse looked at Sam and nodded towards the bed as they both steered Dean in that direction and helped ease him down until he was sitting on the mattress.

"I'm just gonna sit here for a while okay. I promise I won't go running through the corridors." Dean gave a half smile to the nurse which of course was enough to get him what he wanted.

"As long as your brother is going to stay here and make sure, that's fine."

"Yeah, I'll make sure he behaves." Sam grinned at her. He was just relieved to finally see a bit of spark in Dean, something to show that he was still in there. Sam's concern had been growing not only over his brother's disinterest in what had happened but in his lack of response to what was happening around him. There had been no smartass jokes, no flirting and no complaining save for wanting to leave.

"So you gonna behave?" Sam challenged as the nurse left the room. "Cause I think I just might be able to take you if you make a run for it."

Dean looked at Sam, he knew he was going to have to get a grip soon 'cause his little brother already knew something was wrong. He had to start shutting down that part of him that was gonna scream and cry and lose all control, he wouldn't put Sammy anywhere near that train wreck. Hell if he could jump off it he would but too late for that now.

"Sammy you might be able to outrun me but there is no way you could take me and my new friend Mr Crutch here out without a fight." Dean rose to the challenge as a big brother should.

Sam's relief was almost tangible but it didn't last long when he realised that Dean had slid to the edge of the bed and was standing up again. "Dean, no! You promised you wouldn't push it."

"Yeah but Sammy you're the one who said you'd watch me." Dean gave Sam one of his best smiles as he took a step forward and willed his left leg to follow. Every muscle screamed again but Dean knew he had to push himself if he wanted to leave tomorrow. It also helped that he had saved his painkiller from this morning and taken a double dose about an hour ago.

Dean made it back to the bed again, even turning around on his own this time and let Sam help him sit down. Sam immediately took the crutch and placed it in the corner of the room behind the visitor's chair. "Just in case you get any more bright ideas."

Dean was just about spent anyway and felt the familiar numbness from the drugs creeping through his body egged on by the burst of adrenaline. It took the edge off the pain in his body and it took the edge off the darkness in his mind.

Sam watched as his brother relaxed and slept. Dean seemed to be acting more like himself, more reactive but there was still something Sam couldn't quite dismiss. This was Dean after all, master of deception and Sam could sense something just out of his reach. It had to be bothering his brother that he couldn't remember, couldn't change the fact that someone had died but surely Dean knew there was nothing he could have done to change the outcome.

The Doctor had told Sam that Greta had been crushed by a massive rock, her body broken beyond repair and it was unlikely that she had even regained consciousness. Sam's insides turned cold when he thought just how close he had come to losing Dean. They had found his brother within feet of Greta mainly covered by smaller rocks and debris, enough to damage but not kill.

Sam closed his eyes. They would leave here tomorrow and Sam hoped it was the right thing to do, hoped it would help Dean recover for whatever reason. Maybe it was a good thing if Dean didn't remember - one less thing to weigh him down. One less guilt he would carry for the wrong reasons.

Sam was used to seeing Dean hurt, used to watching his brother push through whatever pain he was feeling but that didn't mean Sam ever got used to the wave of emotions that just about drowned him when he saw Dean suffering. This time was no different for him but somewhere in the back of his mind he sensed it was somehow different for his brother. However, the warning bell in Sam's head lost the fight against sheer exhaustion as Sam finally succumbed to sleep.

_tbc..._


	4. Chapter 4

**The Ghost Within**

_**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Supernatural…obviously.**_

_a/n: Best wishes for Christmas and the New Year - hope you enjoy Chapter 4. _

**Chapter 4**

After signing all the paperwork and getting dressed with Sam's help, Dean felt exhausted already but there was no way he was backing down. He knew once they were away from this place, away from the stares and the whispers that he was a hero and the smiles of gratitude, he could get on with things.

Sam watched as his brother broke out in a sweat from getting dressed but he didn't lecture or try and convince him to stay. He could see Dean's relief that it was nearly over and for whatever reason, he obviously needed to leave.

However as much as Sam had resigned himself to support Dean, he could hardly suppress a smirk as the nurse helped Dean into the wheelchair to take him down to the exit. At least the Doctor had won that argument, actually the Dean Winchester rule of "No Wheelchairs" was no match for the "Hospital Policy" quoted by a stern looking Doctor Brown.

Another fifteen minutes and Sam finally had Dean propped up in the passenger seat, tossing his crutch and the bag filled with medical supplies, drugs and prescriptions in the backseat. Sam knew Dean would have probably been more comfortable in the back but he wasn't even going to suggest it as Dean awkwardly climbed in the front. Sam wasn't even game to make any remarks about driving. Not yet anyway.

They drove in relaxed silence a lot of the way, Dean drifted off to what looked like a fairly deep sleep at least twice during the morning. Sam made a couple of rest stops to make sure Dean was able to stretch and they both took the opportunity to grab a coffee each time. Dean had suggested they drive in this direction and Sam didn't have any reason to argue, if anything he was glad because it was taking them closer to Bobby if they needed a safe haven.

It was mid afternoon when Sam decided enough was enough and started looking for a place to stay. Dean had grown increasingly restless and whilst he hadn't complained, Sam could see his brother's face becoming more drawn with each passing mile. It was now just after five and Sam had booked a room and finally gotten Dean and everything else unpacked. The room was old but clean and he was able to park right outside the door. Sam gave himself a moment and sank back on the bed, arms outstretched.

"Well if you're gonna have a nap, I think I'll have first shower." Dean was actually looking forward to having a long, hot shower. His muscles were knotted and the bruises on his back and leg ached from the continuous pressure sitting in the car.

"I'm not napping, just stretching. God I don't know how you drive for so long without a break."

"Well it helps that I haven't got freakishly long arms and legs y'know. I'm built just right for the driver's seat."

"What d'you mean…short!" Sam was ready to duck when he realised Dean was in no shape to throw anything but a smart remark.

"You will wait Sammy my boy, you will wait." Dean stood slowly from the edge of his bed, picking the crutch up on the way.

"Wait Dean, I think you're gonna need some help man. You need a bag on the cast to start with and the bandages on your leg have to come off."

Dean groaned and sank back on the bed with a grimace. If he wanted that shower, and by God he would just about kill for it right now, he was gonna have to let Sam help him.

"Fine Sam but no touchy, feely stuff." Dean managed to unbutton his outer shirt and shrug it off but had trouble maneuvering his left arm out of the t-shirt and broke into a sweat huffing and puffing until Sam assisted.

Sam, frustrated at watching Dean try and do everything when he obviously couldn't, forgot himself for a moment and reached for his brother's jeans to pull them down.

"Dude, if you so much as touch my jeans I will beat you senseless with the crutch." Dean then proceeded to stare his younger brother down until he backed away a few steps with his palms facing Dean in surrender. By the time Dean had gotten his jeans down to his boots he was obviously in pain and there was no way he was going to be able to bend to get his boots off.

"Fuck Sam this sucks."

Sam grinned and sat on the floor, knowing this was Dean's way of asking for help. Sam quickly removed the boots and jeans then set about removing the bandages. Dean's leg was still a mess of deep purple and green bruises from his thigh down to his foot. He then grabbed a plastic shopping bag from their supplies and tied it around Dean's wrist cast. All that remained were his brother's boxers.

"Don't even think about it Sam, I can manage those myself." Dean sounded tired but still determined for a shower as he stood again with the crutch and slowly hobbled to the bathroom door.

"Do you need anything else, I can run the shower if…"

"No Sam I got it." Dean paused before closing the door. "And thanks man."

Dean leaned against the closed door for a moment, trembling with exertion. He could do this. Another few minutes and he finally stood underneath the steaming water, letting it run down his face and body, letting it sting the healing cuts and gashes. He felt the tension ease a little from his shoulders as the water pounded on his back, he closed his eyes and felt his mind relax and drift a little.

Her eyes stared at him, lifeless. I trust you Dean. Don't let me die.

His eyes snapped open and he stumbled back, losing his balance and slamming into the tiles, barely managing to suppress a grunt of pain. He pressed his body back into the wall so he wouldn't fall down and quickly turned the hot water off with his good hand, letting the spray of now cold water hit his face and torso. He gasped in shock from the icy water and turned the cold water off as well.

Dean reached out and grabbed a towel, rubbing it across his face then securing it awkwardly around his waist before he felt a wave of dizziness sweep over him. He squeezed his eyes shut and felt his body shaking from the cold. It was from the cold because there was no way he was going to acknowledge it was from anything else. He was just tired and the drugs were wearing off and Christ everything hurt so fucking much. It was too much.

Dean knew one thing, he had to do something, had to get his mind focused back on the hunt, any hunt. Everything would be alright once they got back on track. Dean grimaced as he felt a hot sting behind his eyes and roughly wiped his hand across his face to prevent any further lack of discipline which could, probably would lead to disaster. He opened his eyes, staring at his hands and willed them to stop trembling. He needed to drown this need, stamp it dead.

Self pity was not something Dean would tolerate. Self loathing was much more bearable.

He managed to pull on his boxers, not caring they were the same ones he walked in with, and threw the wet towel over the side of the shower. He would have to make an appearance soon or Sam would start knocking on the door. He grabbed the crutch and exited the bathroom to find Sam had made coffee and was sitting at the small round table typing away on his laptop.

Sam looked him over as he made his way to his bed and duffel to get clothes, finding a clean t-shirt and track pants already laid out for him. He eased himself down on the bed and slid off the plastic around his wrist cast and slowly got dressed. He knew Sam was watching him but was grateful his brother was giving him some space 'cause the last thing he needed right now was sympathy. The last thing he deserved.

"So, any hot water left?" Sam stood and stretched trying not to let his concern show. He was still shocked every time he saw the extent of the bruising on Dean's body and the shower seemed to have made the marks stand out even more. However he knew Dean would not appreciate his comments, his sympathy, so as much as he hated it, he kept his thoughts to himself.

"Yeah, thought I'd leave you a few drops. I'm such an awesome brother." Dean's voice sounded raspy even to himself.

"Y'okay? I've left your pain meds and antibiotics on the table near your bed. You really should get some rest Dean. I'll get us something to eat after I've cleaned up and then I'll bandage your leg and ribs."

"Yeah 'kay." Dean really needed Sam to have a shower.

Sam frowned and stopped on his way to the bathroom to stare at his brother. "Dean, you sure you're okay? Do you realise you just agreed with me. Man you must be tired." He shook his head and continued on his way.

"Please get some rest Dean." Sam added, failing miserably at keeping the worry out of his voice.

"Yeah Sam. You too okay? This mother hen thing's gotta be wearing you out too."

Sam laughed and suddenly for a second Dean felt good, felt right, as though his brother's happiness had some magical healing properties. It didn't last though and Dean soon found himself concentrating on keeping his breathing even as he fought through the pain in his body.

He waited until he heard the shower start and the screen door close before he moved. He dutifully took the three tablets Sam had left on the table for him, swilling them down with the glass of water that had been placed alongside. He then reached into his duffel until he found the flask that Bobby had given him and placed it on the table. Sam had moved the supplies from the hospital next to the laptop and Dean limped over, not bothering with the crutch, and removed one of the three bottles dispensed by the hospital pharmacy. He took two more pills out then placed the bottle in the inside pocket of his jacket hanging over the back of a chair.

Dean sat on the bed and stared at the tablets in his hand. He knew they would make him pretty much out of it but he had to take the edge off this pain, just until they were focused on the next job. Then everything would be sweet.

He undid the flask and threw the tablets in his mouth and washed them down with two gulps of whiskey. He felt the warmth spread through his body, instantly relaxing tense muscles and frayed nerves. That's all he really needed, a temporary respite from himself. He took another two swigs, then a third for good measure and placed the flask back in his duffel.

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Sam stood underneath the hot water until it did run out, suddenly and with no forewarning. He jumped out of the coldness with a yelp and turned the water off, quickly grabbing his towel before his body lost all warmth completely. As he exited the bathroom and noticed the lack of noise and light, he was not surprised to find Dean asleep haphazardly on top of the covers. Both the pills and the coffee Sam had made were gone.

Sam got dressed keeping one eye on his brother, relieved at the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest.

There was a diner about half a block away and Sam stood for a moment torn as to whether he should let Dean know he was going for food or leave a note. He chose the latter after checking Dean and getting no reaction at all - he doubted whether Dean was waking up anytime soon.

He cautiously placed a hand on Dean's forehead, always wary of his brothers' reaction time. He had been caught off guard by a supposedly sleeping brother on more than one occasion and Dean packed a mean punch, even when horizontally disadvantaged. He was relieved to feel no fever. However he did notice a rather sour smell mingled in with the coffee and made a mental note to leave the toothpaste out as a subtle hint for his brother in the morning.

Although he had convinced himself that Dean wasn't going to wake up, Sam drove the short distance as fast as he could and returned from the diner in under half an hour to find, surprise, surprise, that Dean hadn't moved a muscle. Sam finally sat down with his food and breathed a sigh of relief. It was the first time in ages he felt like things had stopped spiraling out of control, the first time he had relaxed since, well since he had relaxed with Dean in the pub before they had run into Greta more than a week ago.

Sam couldn't believe she was dead. He had only met her twice but it wasn't fair, she didn't deserve to die like that, trying to save a life. Maybe someone was looking out for them after all, how many times could they just as easily died. How many times had he nearly lost Dean. This time it wasn't even part of their job but somehow Dean ended up risking himself, not that Sam blamed him for that, it was a child after all. Sam frowned looking at his brother, it was still odd that Dean seemed so detached from the whole thing, even if he couldn't remember the details he had asked few questions about what happened that night or Greta.

Sam looked over to his empty bed and decided sleep was next on his agenda. He bookmarked the website he had been reading, it appeared that the poltergeist in Franklin was still an issue but he would just have to keep an eye on it until Dean had recuperated or someone else had dealt with it. Either way he couldn't do much about it at the moment.

Sam checked the locks and checked on Dean again, covering him with the bed quilt that had been pushed to the side. In the interest of self preservation he decided against trying to bandage Dean's leg or ribs whilst he slept, opting to tackle the job in the morning. Sam finally fell into bed, closing his eyes instantly.

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The first thing he noticed was that it was bright, far too bright for waking up in the morning. The second thing he noticed was Dean still hadn't moved. He rolled over and looked at his watch, shit it was just after 1pm which meant he had slept for well over 12 hours straight. Dean even longer. He needed to wake Dean for his pain medication and to make sure that his brother exercised his leg a little.

"Hey Dean." Sam sat down on the edge of his brothers' bed and gently placed a hand on his good shoulder. "C'mon man wake up."

Dean finally moaned softly, shifting slightly and squinting his eyes open a little. He stared at Sam, his eyes looking glazed and showing no hint of recognition for almost half a minute before he said his brother's name hesitantly, as though he was still not quite sure. Sam frowned, not at all liking Dean's reaction. He expected grogginess, pain, even a dash of snarky but this was unsettling.

"Dean do you remember what happened, where we are?"

"Yeah Sam just tired. Mouth's dry."

Sam walked over to the small fridge and brought back a bottle of water he had bought with the other supplies from the diner last night. Sam noticed Dean's hand shaking as he gulped the water and placed the bottle on the table next to him.

"How do you feel about getting up and getting something to eat? You must be starved and you should probably stretch your leg a bit before it stiffens up too much. I really need to bandage it though before you walk too far, your ribs too okay." Sam held a hand out.

Dean propped himself up using one arm until he was sitting and then slowly swung his legs around until his feet were on the floor. He stared at Sam's hand a minute before he took up the offer and slowly stood up. His lower leg was the worst but the pain seemed to be miles away, somewhere else where he didn't really have to worry about it. Not right now anyway.

"Let me get the bandages and your pills ready and then we can drive over to the diner."

"Priorities Sam, bathroom first." Dean hobbled over using the wall for support and closed the door.

Sam felt a little relieved, Dean must have just been disorientated when he first woke up but he seemed okay now. Well as good as could be expected when recovering from serious injury but still, there was something niggling. Sam's thoughts were interrupted when Dean emerged from the bathroom.

"I think I'm ready for that walk now Sam, I'm kinda hungry." He grabbed the water bottle on the way past and sat down at the small table. "I only need to bandage my calf muscle though, I think everything else will be fine."

"Walk? Are you sure, I don't know if that's such a good idea. It's about half a block to the diner, are you sure you're up for it? I know the Doc said you had to strengthen you leg Dean but you don't want to overdo it."

"Sam I just want to get past this okay. My rib was only cracked and it's been over a week and my leg needs to strengthen up so we can get back to work." There he said it and now he watched Sam's face for a reaction.

Sam opened his mouth and closed it again, sighed and sat down on the other chair facing his brother. It wasn't like the comment was any surprise. He knew Dean got restless unless they had a plan of action or were actually doing the action part, it just seemed too soon.

"I know you want to move on from this I get that, even though I know you're not telling me everything. I guess I'm used to that too." He paused for effect knowing he would never be able to force Dean into opening up unless he was ready but it also couldn't hurt to use the guilt trip a little. "You just have to make sure you're ready Dean, give yourself a bit of time to heal properly. That's all I'm asking."

"Which is why I think that job in Franklin would be perfect - I know you've been keeping tabs on it. We could make it there in a day or two and then finish some research before we nail the sucker. I mean it's not like the repertoire of a poltergeist shows that much creativity. A few tantrums, a few special effects but it all comes crashing down once the bones are barbequed. I mean how easy…"

"Don't say it Dean, don't you dare say it! It's never easy, it's never what we think it is lately and I can't, won't go charging in anymore cause you end up hurt. I'll do this job but you have to agree we only go in when I say we're ready." Sam just about held his breath.

"Fine. Now hurry up and pass me a bandage geek boy cause I'm starving."

Sam paused and grabbed the bandage off the table while Dean rolled his pants up. This was really bizarre, Dean had agreed with him again without argument. It was like he was channeling some…nice person. "Christo."

"Very funny Sam, can't I be agreeable without copping this flak. I'm hurt." Dean was in fact a little shocked himself. It was like he was functioning in a lower gear, with the edge taken off. Some part of him knew it was the extra large dose of pain relief he had self prescribed that was still flowing in his system but another part of him was quite willing to live with that for the moment. Just until they were back in the swing of things, just until the pain had healed. Once the walls were rebuilt.

They walked slowly to the diner, both glad to be out of the confines of their room. Sam walked as slow as he could, Dean seemed to be doing the opposite. Sam had made sure his brother had taken his pills before they left so the exercise wouldn't leave him in too much pain afterwards. However Dean seemed hell bent on pushing himself and Sam could see the sweat beading his brother's face.

"Dean take it easy, the diner's open 'till midnight you've got plenty of time. This is the first real exercise you've had since, since you got hurt." Sam was careful not to be too specific about the cave in as Dean seemed to get defensive every time Sam broached the subject. A fairly typical reaction he had been assured by the Doctor.

"I know Sam, I feel fine. Actually I feel really good so let's just go with that shall we, y'know the whole gift horse thing." Dean did feel good, incredibly good. After Sam had given him his tablets and gone out to retrieve his phone charger from the car, Dean had popped another two pills just to be safe. To be really certain he also thought it best to wash them down with a shot, two shots of whiskey but that's where he drew the line. He grinned lazily, everything was going to be alright.

When they reached the diner Sam found a booth about half way between the door and the rest rooms, ushering Dean to sit down while he took the crutch and placed it in the corner out of the way. Dean looked flushed and his eyes seemed to be a bit too bright but overall he was in good spirits and seemed to have managed the walk pretty well. Maybe Dean was right, the sooner they got onto this job the better for both of them. As long as he was calling the shots, and Dean had agreed to that little deal, he could make sure they didn't overextend themselves. That is, he could make sure Dean didn't go in guns blazing.

The walk back was a little slower, Dean's movements a little less fluent but that was the only sign of pain that Sam could pick up on. They made it back to the motel without incident and Sam headed for his laptop whilst Dean headed for the bed. They had agreed that two easy days of driving was better for Dean than to sit in the car for close to ten hours. They had also agreed to leave in the morning.

Dean slumped on the bed and closed his eyes, his head was a bit fuzzy and his leg, even with all the meds, was aching to the bone. After about five minutes he could hear the familiar and almost comforting sound of Sam typing and clicking on the laptop. "Let me know if you find anything 'kay Sam."

"Yeah Dean." Sam looked over and saw that Dean hadn't even opened his eyes. "Hey take your shoes off before you go to sleep."

"Can't Sammy." Dean slurred not really interested in moving at all.

Sam dutifully got up and removed his brother's boots, making sure he placed them in a corner of the room far, far away from where he needed to breathe. He sat back down and continued researching the poltergeist, it looked like they might be able to talk to a couple of the former inhabitants of the house which would be a good starting point. At least it would give them some idea of what they would be up against.

Sam worked for another hour, he had about fifteen browsers open now as he followed one link to another as the mystery of when the haunting began remained unresolved. He noticed Dean has become a little restless, moving his head and body as he slept.

Dean let himself drift, let himself go willingly into that unknown zone between asleep and fully awake. Sam's typing faded into the background as the throbbing in his leg kept time with his heartbeat. It had been over three hours since he had taken his pills and the edge was wearing off a little, maybe because of the exercise.

He sat in the bar with Sam and Greta, it was like a moment's clarity in their world of shadows and greys. Simple pleasure. He looked at her face turned toward Sam, her dark hair, the dimples in her cheeks as she laughed. She turned to him but her eyes had changed – they were now afraid, full of unshed tears. When the tears fell they were blood red.

He looked over to Sam but Sam was sitting in the backseat of the Impala trying desperately to get out. He ran over to his brother trying to open the door from the outside then hitting his fist in vain against the window when he saw the car was nearly half full of water. "Sammy hang on, don't you give up. I'll get you out." Dean couldn't breath, how could this happen, how could he have let this happen.

"Dean it's okay, don't worry it doesn't hurt." Sam sat back in the seat as the water covered his face and head. Sam's eyes stared blankly, accusingly out the window.

"No, no, no Sammy. You hold on, Sammy. No." Dean struggled fiercely against something that was trying to hold him back from his brother. He would never give up on Sam.

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Dean was growing more and more restless as he slept but the startled yell that pierced the air nearly caused Sam to knock his laptop to the floor as he jumped from his chair and sat by Dean on the bed. Dean was gasping and calling for him, eyes closed and hands fisted obviously in the throes of a nightmare.

"C'mon Dean wake up." Sam placed a hand on Dean's right shoulder, still mindful of the bruising covering most of Dean's left side. "Dean."

"Sammy, where's….?" Dean tried to sit up gripping Sam's arm and looking around confused.

"Where's who? You were having a nightmare."

Dean shook his head and rubbed a hand across his face. "Yeah, just a nightmare."

"Since when do you have nightmares Dean? Was it about the accident, do you remember something? I mean the doc said you'd…"

"No Sam, I don't remember the accident so quit bugging me alright. I dreamt, I dreamt you were drowning okay."

"Okay. Well I'm alright so you can relax now." Sam noticed Dean's hands were still clenched.

"I think I can see that college boy. Anyways, the reason I was so upset was you were drowning in the Impala and it was gonna take me months to dry her out." Dean smirked but it didn't come close to reaching his eyes.

That was close, too close. He must not have mentioned her name as he slept even though she wouldn't leave him alone. How could someone so innocent, so full of life now become so destructive to him. Her face, her eyes, they had turned into Sam's dead eyes. Dean shivered, forgetting Sam was still sitting next to him.

Sam saw the smartass grin but also saw straight through it. Dean was deflecting attention and Sam respected his brother enough to focus on something else for the moment. The sweat on his brother's face and the massive shiver that had just wracked through his body was enough for Sam.

"Okay, I need to check the stitches in your side and head Dean, along with the cuts on your shoulder. If you've got a fever, there is no way we are starting this job until…"

"I haven't got a fever Sam I'm just a bit hot and cold at the same time, no problem."

Sam rolled his eyes in frustration, "Have you been taking the antibiotics as well as the pain meds each time?"

"Dean!"

"Jesus Sam, I've been taking them most of the time okay."

Sam stood, jaw clenched so he wouldn't start ranting at his brother, and retrieved the bag of medical supplies. After making Dean take antibiotics and pain meds, he checked the stitches in Deans head and hip and the healing scars on his shoulders and chest. Everything looked okay, the redness was still apparent but didn't seem to indicate any infection. However he knew only too well, looks could be deceiving.

"Is anything hurting a lot Dean, I need to know."

Yeah Sammy, it hurts and I'm tired and I'm so sorry. "Nah, my leg's a bit sore though so I'll wait for the pills to work before my ten mile jog. You on the other hand look like crap."

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Sam spent the remainder of the day and well into the night browsing through articles from the local newspapers in and around the Franklin area. Dean had finally succumbed to his exhaustion and thankfully had not stirred in hours.

Sam ran a hand through his unruly hair and looked over the notes he had accumulated for the case. He had found out quite a bit about the Landwin House and by all accounts it seemed to be haunted. Heath Landwin was the second owner of the house who had eventually been tried and found guilty of torturing and killing at least ten women. After he had been hung in 1889, the house seemed to have been abandoned until the early 1900's but then each subsequent owner appeared to have fled.

As Sam continued, he discovered an unsettling pattern of suicides amongst the men that had lived in the house. He tracked a total of seven deaths, all attributed to suicide and all gory enough to have made the local paper when they happened. Sam tracked another two male occupants who had been committed to asylum's in separate states. Whatever was happening to these men occurred in the first week after they left.

Sam glanced at his watch and stretched, time to call it quits. He would brief Dean with the details over the next two days as they drove. As HE drove, Sam corrected himself, there was no way Dean was getting behind the wheel.

_tbc..._


	5. Chapter 5

**The Ghost Within**

_**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Supernatural…obviously.**_

_a/n: So much for tightening this chapter up, it's even longer now and I'm not particularly pleased but can't look at it any longer. Hope you enjoy and thanx for reading._

_lb_

**Chapter 5**

San sighed in relief as he read the signpost coming up at him on the side of the road "Welcome to Franklin. Have a pleasant stay." Well he was pretty sure their stay would be a lot of things but pleasant probably wouldn't cover it.

It had been an uneventful two days drive, boring almost but not quite. Dean had actually fought both mornings to have a stint behind the wheel and having been denied on both occasions had resorted to nagging Sam about his driving. This in turn had led to Sam picking the worst radio station he could find, out of spite, and then cranking the volume up to drown out the protest. By the time they had stopped for lunch each day, both boys were sporting huge headaches and were ready to call a temporary truce.

It was close to 4pm when Sam pulled into a small motel near the main road. Dean was asleep, his head resting on the window and his body curled over on his right side. Even in his sleep he tried to alleviate the pain that he was obviously still feeling in his bruised body. Sam hesitated a moment, he was still anxious about this whole job. Dean had seemed fairly compliant so far, well except for the driving thing but they were here now and he really didn't think Dean was ready yet. Dean stirred a little and Sam got out to book their room, his doubts still nagging away in his mind.

Once they were unpacked Sam volunteered to find dinner, he had been pleasantly surprised as he had driven into the small town to see a few restaurants and take away joints on the main road.

"How about Chinese, I'm pretty much over pizza at the moment. Unless you want to eat out?

"Nah, Chinese sounds fine Sam. I wouldn't mind getting an early start in the morning."

"Okay, I won't be long. Any requests?" Sam grabbed the keys off the table and headed out.

"Surprise me. As long as it's not any of that healthy noodle shit."

"Fine, greasy Chinese it is." Sam laughed as he closed the door.

Sam got in the car and started the engine, suddenly realising how comforting the sound of the engine was, how it made everything right. God help him, he was having a Dean moment.

Dean had been pretty quiet over the two days, except of course for their daily battle over driving etiquette. His brother still seemed so tired but the strangest things were his mood swings, one minute terse and panicked and then almost too relaxed. Sam knew the painkillers had something to do with it but the Doctor had said he would need them and for once Dean seemed happy to oblige. Dean didn't want to talk about the pain he was in, no surprise there, so all Sam could do for the moment was to make sure Dean had what he needed.

As soon as Sam left, Dean took out the bottle of tablets from his jacket and popped two in his mouth. His secret stash was over half empty but he couldn't worry about that at the moment. He had managed to purchase a bottle of whiskey when they had stopped for petrol earlier that day, walking across the road on the pretense of stretching his legs. He refilled his flask and then took a few mouthfuls from the bottle, instantly relaxing when the familiar warmth hit his throat.

He knew he was on edge, the pills no longer made him sleep for long but they calmed him when he felt like a spring wound too tight and just about ready to snap. He knew he was drinking too much but it kept the darkness at bay, made him feel like he was coping – more importantly made it look like he was coping so Sam wouldn't have to worry. Sam shouldn't have to pick up any more pieces, shouldn't have to see him falling apart.

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Dean awoke the next morning to the sound of the door rattling in its' frame. He got up, his movements still stiff and slower than he would have like but he walked without the aid of the crutch. A quick glance out of the window and he realized the wind was howling, the sky overcast and bleak.

According to Sam's research, there were still former owners of the house living in Franklin, Renee Withers who had then sold the house to the current owners Morton and Marg Stilton. Renee Withers was in her forties and her husband Ben had apparently committed suicide in the house eighteen months earlier, according to the newspaper report he had become depressed and slashed himself with a knife.

The brothers pulled up outside the house on the outskirts of town, they had decided to visit Renee Withers first hoping to get more information than what had been published in the media about her husband's death.

Dean opened the screen door which shook on its hinges, and knocked on the wooden door which had also seen better days. After a minute, the door opened slowly to reveal a petite woman in a pair of jeans and flannel shirt. "Yes, can I help you?"

"Mrs Withers? Sorry to disturb you maam but we'd like to ask you some questions about your late husband if it's not too much trouble." Sam spoke softly, sincerely, trying to gauge the women's reaction before continuing.

"I'm Sam and this is Dean and we're writing a piece on the history of the old Landwin house and we've come across some information that we weren't too sure about. We were wondering if you had some time to talk to us." Sam paused, the woman hadn't shown any real reaction to his request but at least she hadn't closed the door in their faces.

"My Ben died after we left that house but I don't know how I can help you." She hesitated a moment before gesturing them inside. "I don't even know what happened anymore."

They walked into a small but comfortable sitting room with several chairs and a small television in the corner. "Have a seat, would you like a drink?"

"No thanks Mrs Withers." Sam smiled politely.

"What exactly did you want to know?"

"Well there seems to be a pretty dark history with this house, and your husband wasn't the first death associated with it. Was there anything unusual you can remember that happened whilst you were living there?" Sam prompted.

"I could tell you a lot of things but no one else seemed to believe me. Ben wasn't depressed either like they said but I couldn't explain why he did it. We both saw… thought we saw other people in the house when there weren't any, and…and I don't know." She shook her head gently, pausing to look at both the boys before continuing.

"At first it was just little things y'know, a voice downstairs, noises, flickering lights but the worst was the coldness that would suddenly come from nowhere. Then we both started seeing the man and Ben started to hear a girl calling for help, it drove him to distraction. We called the police the first time but of course they found nothing and weren't too pleased about the false alarm."

"What about you, what did you see?" Dean prodded.

"I had just lost my mom to cancer and I was still terribly upset. One evening I thought…I thought I saw her, my mom, crying, she was angry at me 'cause I hadn't been with her when she passed. I felt so guilty."

"What happened?"

"I heard Ben arrive home from work and ran down to the door and I didn't see her again. Ben went to look upstairs and he wouldn't tell me what happened but we left soon after and drove to a motel. Ben died the next night. He kept…he kept saying that he had hurt me. I couldn't get through to him, I didn't know what to do and then…and then it was too late." She finished quietly.

Sam placed a hand on her arm. "We're so sorry. What you're telling us is a big help – there is something strange happening in that house and we really want to stop it from happening again."

She looked at Dean then Sam. "I'm so glad you believe me but please don't go meddling with that house. I tried to warn the couple that bought it, I had no choice but to sell it, I had to live somewhere but I couldn't stay there. They thought I was grief stricken, trying to find some reason for Ben's death but – something in that house is…is wrong. He had cuts all over…"

The brothers knew that they had stayed long enough, Mrs Withers was trying to keep a brave face but they could see she was having trouble talking any more about the events that led to her husband's death. Sam thanked her and gave her his cell phone number in case she thought of anything else and they let themselves out.

"Well it's definitely a haunting." Dean commented as they both sat back in the car.

"Yeah but they also saw and heard the ghost of a woman. It's obvious we have more than one ghost here Dean."

"I think you might be right there Sherlock. Maybe its Heath Landwin and one of his victims, did they find all the bodies of the women he killed?"

"I think so but what if he killed more than the ten they caught him for, wouldn't be the first time a mass murderer hasn't admitted to all his crimes."

"Yeah but he had nothing to lose, I mean he was going to be strung up whether he killed ten or twenty. These guys normally want credit for what they've done they want the publicity and attention."

"Yeah I guess. Well we may as well talk to the Stilton's before we plan our next move. According to Beverly at Ling Sun's Chinese, they moved to a place just out of town three days ago."

"Okay, way to go Sammy. So is Beverly a member of the blue rinse brigade or have you actually worked your charms on a hot chick?"

Sam shook his head slowly. "Dean get your mind out of the gutter I was just getting some information. She didn't even realise."

"You haven't answered my question, college boy."

"Jerk."

"So sixty it is!" Dean grinned and leaned back in the passenger seat, careful to lean more on his right side. He could feel himself coming down from the slightly euphoric feeling he got from the pain meds. His left leg and side were beginning the familiar thrum that normally meant he had a few hours until real pain set in but they were working a job and it felt good. Everything was alright.

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The brothers met with Mr and Mrs Stilton, hearing a similar version of events that had been told by Renee Withers. The couple had been driven from the house one night when Marg claimed to have seen a woman in the bedroom and Morton had then taken his hysterical wife to a rented house. That had been three days ago and they hadn't returned to the house since.

"We had only just moved upstairs after the carpenter had finished repairing the stairway. I saw her in the bedroom and she was crying, it was horrible, I felt so sad, so overwhelmed I can't describe it. But I know what I saw." She finished defiantly as her husband rolled his eyes and shook his head.

Marg also admitted to seeing the angry man downstairs but Morton flatly denied seeing much at all, insisting to the boys as they left that he had every intention of returning to the house and packing their belongings.

"Let us check a few things out first okay. Just to play it safe in case there's something…um…in case someone's up to no good." Sam paused before stepping out the door and looked hopefully at Marg.

"I think that would be for the best. We've got everything here that we need for the moment." She looked over at Morton who raised his hands in the air in defeat and walked from the room.

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On the way back through town, they stopped for a late lunch and then drove round to the local library to try and find any more information on the possible identity of the other ghost. Dean had tried to coerce Sam into driving past the Landwin house but Sam was not falling for that one, knowing the next step would be just to take a quick look around and they just weren't prepared for that. Not yet. There was no urgency, no one was living in the house and Sam didn't see the point in taking the risk.

The library was a very small, old building but had obviously been well looked after on the inside. An older couple sat behind the information desk and were more than willing to point the boys in the direction of the local historical reference section. And the microfiche readers.

"Oh man, this is gonna take forever. These things make me feel queasy." Dean groaned, remembering the last time he had worked on these readers.

"Yeah well they're not exactly my favourite piece of technology either but what choice do we have? There's no other way to look at the old newspapers and journals."

After three hours and numerous pages of copying, they called it quits and headed back to the motel. It was now after five and Dean dived on the bed whilst Sam headed for the shower.

Dean had downed a couple of painkillers with his whiskey, a routine so familiar to him now he didn't even question it. As he put the flask in his duffel, Sam's phone began to ring.

Dean grabbed the phone from the table. "Hello."

"Hello? Hello is that Sam Mathis? Please I need to speak with Sam Mathis." A woman's voice pleaded, verging on hysterical.

"This is Dean Mathis, who is this?"

"Oh Dean this is Marg Stilton. Please you have to help me, Morton went back to the house after you left and he's not home yet. He's not answering his phone and I don't know what to do Please, I know something's wrong. He just went back to get some things for me, he kept saying that he wasn't gonna be pushed around and it was our home."

"Okay calm down Marg, we're not too far away. Sam and I will check it out and let you know. Call us back if you hear anything okay."

Sam came out of the bathroom as Dean finished the call.

"C'mon Sam we're going ghost hunting after all. That was Marg Stilton, apparently Morton has decided he's not gonna let some ghost boss him round and he's gone back to the house."

Sam stood still watching as Dean went through the weapons bag loading salt shots and holy water. Watching as things suddenly without warning started spinning out of control.

"No. No Dean you're not ready, I'll go but you…"

"What? Are you kidding me? I'm fine Sam and we have to do this, we can't let someone else die because it doesn't fit our plan. Since when do we stick to the plan anyway?"

"Since I say so, since you were in ICU unconscious less than a week ago. Since you agreed that I was calling the shots on this job Dean."

"Yeah well I don't think Morton Stilton or the ghost for that matter got that memo Sam, so all bets are off. Get dressed, I'll be in the car."

So just like that, in the space of five minutes Sam felt like he was drifting in space with absolutely no control over his direction or fate. More importantly, no control over Dean's fate. He got dressed in under a minute, worried that Dean might just leave without him, and ran out to the car. Dean was sitting in the driver's seat glaring at him, daring him to challenge. Sam adjusted his direction and jumped in the passenger seat without a word.

Sam knuckles were white as he held onto the seat in a death grip, he was both angry at Dean for disregarding his own health, again, and concerned at Dean's erratic driving. The tyres squealed as they took a corner too fast and the back wheels spun wide on the turn. The house was on a property about twenty minutes from the main part of town and luckily there were no other cars on the road.

"Okay Dean, we'll both go in but you've got to calm down, we need to get there in one piece if we're gonna be any help." Sam tried to reason with his brother, forcing any anger from his voice as he spoke. He didn't know why Dean seemed so hyped, so wound up but it was not good going into a hunt.

"Fine Sam, I'm fine it's all good. Sorry man I just, we can't ignore this you know that and I won't let you go in alone." Dean's right hand tapped compulsively on the steering wheel. He felt wired, pumped. They had to make sure this guy was alright, he couldn't lose another innocent because he wasn't ready, because he reacted the wrong way. Just like Greta – he knew there was something he missed, something he could have done. He should have got her out of the way. His fault. That's why she wouldn't go away he realised, 'cause it was his fault. That couldn't happen again, he couldn't look at more dead eyes.

Sam watched as Dean drummed on the steering wheel, at least he had tried to explain himself. Sam should have realised that Dean's stubbornness and over protectiveness wasn't just going to go away because Sam said he was in charge. "Dean stop that's the house." Sam realised as the car suddenly squealed to a stop and he lurched forward placing a hand on the dash to brace himself.

"Sorry." Dean grinned as he jumped from the car favouring his left leg and opened the boot.

"Dean I need to know you're okay for this, really man. How's your leg?"

"Sam it's sore but I took some pills before we left and I'm fine for this. I might not be able to run at warp speed but I can do this."

Sam knew that regardless of what was said during this conversation he was not going to change the fact that this was happening now and they were both going in, unprepared. They couldn't wait any longer.

They hurried up the stone path to the front door and saw a car parked to the side of the house.

"Well it looks like this is for real and Morton's inside so we can only hope we're in time. Oh and Dean, we have to stick together on this."

"Got it Sammy. Stick together."

The brothers cautiously approached the front door and found it unlocked. They glanced at each other in silent acknowledgement before entering in one fluid well rehearsed motion. Guns drawn they covered each other, moving swiftly through the rooms on the ground floor and returning to the stairwell with no sign of Morton Stilton so far. Sam pointed up the stairs and Dean nodded following closely, checking their backs every few steps.

They had nearly reached the top of the stairs when they heard a low moan off to their right. Moving in unison, they headed down the corridor checking one room after another. They found him in the fourth room, it looked like the main bedroom. He was barely conscious and propped up against the wall, a piece of glass in his hand and covered in blood. The shattered remains of a wall mirror lay all around as though it had been hit with a great force.

"Mr Stilton? Morton can you hear me? It's Dean and Sam Mathis, remember from this morning."

He looked at Dean without recognition, shivering violently. "My fault, my fault. Marg's dead it's my fault." He whispered.

Dean frowned when he heard the all too familiar words that had been echoing in his own mind. Except Morton was delusional and he wasn't – he was just stating fact.

"No Morton she's alive, she sent us here. It's okay we'll get you out and you can see her." Sam reasoned.

Dean placed his arm around the man's waist and helped him stand. "C'mon let's get you out of here."

Dean handed Sam his gun. "Watch our backs, I can't shoot and hold him up."

Sam took the gun and scanned the room as Dean got Morton to the door. He was following them out when the sound of glass made him spin around, catching movement out of the corner of his eye. He fired a shot off as the door slammed shut with Dean and Morton on one side and him on the other.

"Sam, Sam answer me." Dean called frantically trying to turn the doorknob.

"I'm okay Dean, but the door won't open. Get Morton outside and I'll try and blast the door."

"No Sam I'm not leaving you. We'll stand to the side, try and blast the door now."

"Okay stand clear here goes."

Sam fired off two, three rounds of rock salt which didn't do much for the paintwork but made no impression on the lock.

"Dean take Morton outside and bring back some ammo rounds or an axe or both. I'm fine, I've got salt rounds left if the ghost wants to play but I'll be fine. You've got no weapons, you've got to get out and get Morton out."

Dean felt his heart pumping so hard in his chest it hurt. This wasn't supposed to happen, Christ. Sam was right. Fuck. He had to leave Sam to help him.

"I'll be back Sammy, y'hear me. Don't you do anything stupid or I'll kick your arse, I mean it." Dean adjusted his grip on Morton who didn't seem to be aware of what was going on but at least he was holding some of his own weight.

"I'm not going anywhere Dean."

Dean took the stairs as fast as he dared, the fire in his leg spreading to his hip and chest by the time he had reached the bottom. He could feel himself sweating and trembling and willed himself to get a grip as he felt Morton lean more on him. As he finally opened the front door the cool night air cleared his head a little as he reached the Impala and half sat half lay Morton on the backseat. The sweat poured off him and he stripped his jacket off and threw it on the front seat then turned the injured man down so he was lying on his side.

Dean had braced a hand on the front seat to get back out when Morton sat up and grabbed Dean's arm. "Don't save me I killed her, you can't save me." Morton began thrashing wildly and Dean felt something slice his arm above the cast. Dean had no choice but to throw a punch, knocking Morton out cold. Dean grasped the piece of mirror still clutched in the man's bloody hand and threw it out of the car.

He stumbled out of the car and opened the boot, grabbing a gun with ammo rounds and the axe. He shoved the gun in his waistband, gripping the axe in his left hand. The axe slipped from his hand as he closed the boot and as he bent down to retrieve it, the moonlight showed him the blood. So much blood. It ran down his cast and dripped off his fingers. It covered his shirt where Morton had leaned on him. It glistened on the grass where it fell. Dean felt himself breathing heavily but he couldn't look away.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx'

Sam backed up against the door, trying to pry it open whilst checking the room for any signs of the ghost. He felt the coldness before he saw anything. He felt a sense of dread envelop him that he could only describe as despair. He staggered to the side of the door and slid down the wall when he saw her. She was beautiful, so beautiful even though she was crying. His Jessica.

He gasped as she came closer. He could feel her anger, her hatred. This wasn't right, she loved him why would she be so angry. And then it hit him hard, unprepared like a sucker punch taking his breath away. It was his fault she had died. He had killed her 'cause he had done nothing to save her. He understood why she was angry and she was right. His fault.

"You killed me but you can make it right again." She whispered seductively.

Sam choked back a sob, he wanted to make it right again so badly. His head dropped with despair and he looked at the gun he was holding, he remembered why they were there. No. No, this wasn't right this wasn't Jess. He lifted the gun with shaky hands that betrayed his inner turmoil and fired. The ghost disappeared and took the dread and the hatred with it but Sam could still remember the feeling with such clarity it left him gasping for breath, tears in his eyes.

She reappeared again only a few feet away and Sam wasted no time using the rock salt.

God no, he felt the air grow cold again and he saw her in the far corner of the room this time. "Help me. Don't leave me down here please. Don't let me die." She pleaded.

"No, no, you're not her not real." Sam still trembling, fired the gun again.

"Sam, Sammy?"

"Yeah Dean, I'm still here." He hoped Dean didn't hear how shaky he sounded but God he was glad to hear his brother's voice.

"Stand back Sam, I'll try the gun first."

Sam backed away behind the bed nervously looking around the room. "I'm clear."

Dean fired twice, the sound echoing loudly in the empty house. He could hear Dean trying the door but still nothing. "Son of a bitch Sam I'm gonna have to chop it down."

After about five minutes, Dean had opened one panel up. The door was solid timber and Sam realised this must be taking a toll on his brother. "Pass the axe through Dean and I'll do the rest."

"No Sam you stay sharp, you can't fire a gun if you're holding an axe."

Dean was running on pure adrenaline and dread now. He couldn't let anything happen to Sam, no more blood. There was enough blood on his hands. He laughed out loud looking at his hands. Looking at the blood that flew off the cast each time he struck a blow with the axe, spraying the wall and door with tiny red flecks. He couldn't feel his left hand now and he let it slip off the axe without a thought, using his right shoulder and arm to carry the blow.

He paused, hearing Sam's voice. "It's okay Sam I'll get you out." He kept swinging.

"Dean stop. I can get through. Stop."

Dean stopped and stared at the door. Stared through the door at his brother. Black spots kept creeping into the side of his vision making him blink. He really wanted to ask Sam if he was alright but all he could manage was one word.

"Sam?"

"Dean? Oh God your arm. C'mon we're getting out of here now." Sam picked up the other rifle lying on the floor and turned sideways to get through the door. He checked the safety on Dean's rifle and tucked it under his right arm, holding his rifle in his right hand. Without hesitation he placed his other arm around Dean's waist and began guiding him back to the stairs.

Sam glanced at his brother who hadn't protested his assistance and leant into him every time he stepped with his left leg. "You with me Dean? Can you get down the stairs?"

"Yeah, think so." He slurred. "Don't let go."

Sam felt the temperature drop suddenly and saw her right next to them, right next to Dean. Her arm reached out and touched Dean's chest for a second before Sam dropped both the rifle and his brother and got off a close range shot.

"Dean are you hurt, did she hurt you?" Sam crouched down next to where his brother had fallen in a heap.

"No…don't think so, just so cold. Leg hurts." Dean shivered.

They had reached the bottom of the stairs, the door in sight when Sam saw movement and then heard a man's voice.

The spirit stood with a piece of twisted rope in his hand, his other arm was raised shielding his face as he yelled up at the second floor. "You made me kill them all. Your fault they're all dead." He laughed crazily then froze when he saw Sam and Dean.

He had suddenly halved the distance to where they stood and Sam dropped Dean's rifle and raised his own, taking his arm from around his brother's waist in the process but able to prop Dean against the wall this time.

"I enjoyed it, seeing them die…" The blast from the rifle cut the sentence short and Sam looked around, seeing nothing. Dean was leaning unsteadily on the wall and Sam once again grabbed the other rifle and Dean's arm, desperate to cover the last few feet and get out the door to safety.

They staggered out the door and down the path, Sam could feel Dean slowing but he didn't stop until they reached the car. He lowered his brother to the ground and sat down next to him noticing Morton was lying unmoving in the backseat.

"Jesus Dean what the hell happened? Sam noticed the cut on Dean's arm about three inches across and still bleeding. "I need to get you and Morton to a hospital."

"M'fine Sammy. Morton's lost a bit of blood but he went crazy and I had to knock him out. He still had a piece of glass and swiped me before I realised." Dean stared at the blood covering his hand and suddenly wanted it off, wiping at it and furiously rubbing it on the grass but only succeeding in opening the cut in his upper arm more with the movement.

Sam grabbed his brother's arm, alarmed at his panicked state. What the hell was going on to cause this reaction. "Dean stop, we'll wash it off but you've got to stop before you hurt yourself more." Sam saw Dean's jacket lying on the passenger seat and got it out, draping it over Dean's shoulders and covering his arm and hand. Dean seemed to calm down a little when the blood was covered up and Sam was able to get him into the passenger seat without further protest.

Sam checked Morton's pulse which was still strong, he had lost blood from cuts on his shoulder and across his chest but nothing too serious. He got his cell phone out and dialed the number that Marg Stilton had called him from earlier. After Sam explained the situation, Marg had insisted that she would call the local town doctor if Sam could drop her husband home. It seemed like the best plan as the nearest hospital was over three hours away.

Morton was stirring by the time Sam pulled up in his driveway and Sam was able to get the man inside and comfortable. He didn't waste too much time inside, not wanting to leave his brother alone for too long. Dean still sat motionless leaning against the door and staring ahead, flinching slightly when Sam got back in the car and closed the door.

Sam spoke quietly. "Dean why don't we wait and let the Doc check you out as well, he'll be here in about ten minutes. You probably need stitches in your arm."

Dean shook his head straight away. "No Sam, please. I just want to get back to our room, you can stitch it up if I need it. Please Sam, I can't…I, I just want to go."

Sam started the car and Dean seemed to sink further back in the seat, closing his eyes. "Okay Dean but I need you to tell me what happened back there."

Dean heard Sam's request, was waiting for it really but he didn't open his eyes. He had lost it back there and that couldn't happen again. What was he gonna tell Sam? He had dry swallowed a couple of pills from the bottle in his jacket when Sam had been inside the house and he started to feel the numbness creep through his body. He could also feel the icy chill that hadn't left him since the ghost had touched him.

He opened his eyes and saw the red stained fingertips of his left hand sticking out from beneath his jacket, He stared at the stain wondering if it would ever come off. He was beginning to realise that everything he did ended in bloodshed whether it belonged to the creature they hunted, some poor victim or worse still, Sam. This was his blood so it should be alright, an acceptable outcome. He could deal with this, get over it.

"We're nearly there Dean." Sam noticed his brother stir a little and glanced over to the passenger seat. Dean seemed more relaxed, his breathing had steadied and his eyes were open.

"I'm good now Sammy, I just need a shower and some sleep. Are you…did the ghost hurt you Sam 'cause I heard the gunshots and, and I wasn't there. I screwed up Sam and I'm sorry." Dean remembered the blind panic he had felt when he realised that Sam was with the ghost alone. The gunshots had snapped him into action but everything was pretty much a blur before and after that.

"It didn't touch me but I felt…"

Sam was silent for a moment. "I saw Jessica. She looked…the same but I knew it wasn't her. She would never have so much hatred, so much anger but it made me doubt, made me…I should have saved her and I didn't and…"

"And what Sam?"

"And I wanted to die." He whispered.

"God Sam, you know it wasn't your fault. Don't you talk like that, d'you hear me."

"The feeling was so strong, so real but I saw the gun and I remembered why we were there, I knew it was the ghost. Those other people Dean, they don't know what we do, they would have no chance." Sam shook his head. "I do know one thing though, this ghost we saw upstairs isn't just your average angry spirit. We've got to work this out before someone else gets killed."

"I know."

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Sam pulled up outside their room and got out quickly. "Let me open the door first, then I'll help you in."

Dean however had other plans and was determined to push his battered body to its limits if it meant convincing his brother that he was alright. Sam was the one that needed looking after, Sam was the one who had seen his dead girlfriend and had wanted to…he couldn't even go there. He was going to have to make sure now he was alert, twenty four seven. He knew they couldn't walk away from this, but he would make damn sure this ghost wasn't going to fuck with his brother again.

Dean opened the door and slid out of the car, bracing his right arm on the door as he stood, placing most of his weight on his right leg. The pills were holding the worst pain at bay but his leg muscles weren't exactly cooperating. He clutched his damaged arm to his chest and walked slowly almost dragging his left leg with each step, holding his breath each time he placed weight on it, willing himself not to fall in a heap. That would most definitely ruin any chance of feigning invincibility.

Sam had opened the door and turned to see Dean struggling forward, his face pale and his eyes half closed. He took a deep breath knowing Dean, stubborn bastard that he was, would only accept help if he fell flat on his face. Sam stood holding the door, poised to move if Dean even looked like he was going down.

"Sit on the bed Dean I need to check your arm before anything."

"Shower first." Dean wanted the blood off now but couldn't come out and say that.

"We'll see but first I need to look at that cut properly. I really don't feel like dragging your bare arse out of a shower after you collapse from blood loss."

"Fine. I don't really want you anywhere near my bare arse so check the arm."

Sam's grin faded as Dean lowered himself onto his bed, unable to stifle a groan. He sat and closed his eyes a minute, opening them when he felt his jacket being lifted gently from his shoulders.

"Shit Dean, your cast is just about to fall off it's cracked right through. We're gonna have to drive to the hospital tomorrow to have it reset." Sam proceeded to help Dean maneuver out of his t-shirt.

"Just cut it off Sam, it'll be fine."

Sam checked the cut which was only seeping a little now, he could probably butterfly bandage it tonight and get it checked out while they were at the hospital tomorrow. Dean's body was still bruised although appeared to be healing but it looked like he would have to cut the cast off. It was cracked all the way along and Sam could see blood had seeped inside making the plaster start to disintegrate.

"Okay Dean, I can probably break the cast off and then if you're up for it you can have a shower before I bandage the cut."

"What so you're not gonna sew me up now?"

"Well I figure seeing as we're going the hospital tomorrow, we may as well wait for the professionals to do it. You're not gonna bleed to death tonight."

Dean decided not to comment, he would fight the hospital battle in the morning when he had a bit more energy. Sam would sleep better thinking he had won that argument for now. Dean didn't realise he had a smirk on his face.

Sam got Dean's boots and socks off and stood up. "And don't think I'm kidding about the hospital Dean."

Another twenty minutes and Dean finally stood under a steaming hot shower. He really didn't care that the water stung his cut and that his wrist throbbed without the cast to support it. The blood washed off his arm and turned the water pink before it disappeared down the drain. He still saw her dead eyes but he knew they would be gone soon at least for a while. He knew he deserved to see them now because they reminded him what would happen if he failed, if he lost focus again. It was better to see her dead eyes than to see Sammy's.

Once Dean was out and dressed, Sam decided he needed another quick shower, first making sure that Dean had taken his pain meds and antibiotics then bandaging his brother's arm and wrist. Without thinking, he lay his open palm on Dean's chest and patted it twice, conveying more in that gesture than he could in words alone.

"Thanks Sam." Dean couldn't even rib Sam about the show of affection. Not when he felt strangely comforted by the simple gesture.

When Dean heard the shower running he found his nearly full flask and drained it, a twinge of guilt clouding his mind when he thought of his kid brother. It wasn't enough though, the need to drown out the blood and dead eyes was far greater.

Sam got out of the shower and was relieved to find Dean asleep. He pulled a pair of boxers on and sat down on his bed ignoring the water that dripped down his chest and back from his still wet hair. He stared at Dean, his mind going over what had happened in the house.

He mentally kicked himself for letting the ghost get in his head, he knew better than that. It was strange though how Dean didn't seem to be affected at all except for feeling cold. The dark despair that had affected both Morton and himself as well as, Sam assumed, the earlier victims didn't seem to have touched his brother. He knew "seemed" was the operative word here though, knowing Dean. His brother could be at death's door and he would still be denying anything was wrong.

Sam grinned knowingly in the darkening room. Dean could sure as hell drive him insane with this bravado but he also realised every second of every day that his older brother selflessly did what he did for all the right reasons. For family, for love.

He lay on top of the covers and closed his eyes, rubbing a hand across his face and trying not to think of Jessica. He had to keep it together 'cause Dean needed him and he would be there. Whether Dean wanted it or not.

_tbc…_


	6. Chapter 6

_**The Ghost Within**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Supernatural…obviously.**_

_a/n: Thank you all for the motivating reviews (including Lauren who I could not respond to directly). I'm getting the feeling that those who are reading, seem to be fans of the angst so I'll try not to disappoint._

_Hope you enjoy…_

_lb._

**Chapter 6**

It was early afternoon by the time that Sam got behind the wheel to drive them back from the hospital. Dean had seemed groggy and disorientated when he had woken that morning but after about an hour had seemed in almost good spirits until Sam had put his foot down about the hospital visit.

True to form, Dean had been almost belligerent when faced with a Doctor asking him how he had managed to break the cast and sustain further injury to his arm. Although the Doctor had decided that stitches weren't required for the cut on Dean's arm, he did insist a tetanus shot was imperative. Whilst Sam had then cajoled his brother into consenting to an x-ray and having the cast reset, Dean had bluntly refused any further medical treatment or checks.

"I wish you had let the Doctor check your leg and ribs Dean. It couldn't have hurt."

"What are they gonna do Sam? Tell me to rest and take it easy, yeah well I'll mend on the job like we usually do. It's mainly just bruising and I've got the pain meds if it gets too bad."

Sam was silent. He wanted to ask Dean what had happened yesterday, why he had been so…panicked when he saw the blood. Dean didn't panic that was the thing, Dean just didn't react that way. The mood swings were another sign that something wasn't right but to broach the subject would just put Dean on the defensive. Sam knew that from experience.

"We have to figure this out Sam. Burn the bones of ol' Heath Landwin then find out who this other ghosty bitch is and where she's buried."

"I know and I've been thinking, when I did the research I pretty much stopped looking around the time I found Landwin's story. I mean I checked maybe a year or two before but what if the second ghost is older than that, what if there's another story here?"

"Yeah could be. Some scandal swept under the carpet, maybe not the feature story of the day. Only problem is that's gonna make it harder for us to find."

"You're not gonna like this but I can check the history of the house on the web but I think the only way to find the story we're after is to hit the microfiche again."

"Oh kill me now." The words were out of his mouth before he really thought about it but the terse look that suddenly appeared on Sam's face made him remember what they had both been through the previous day. More importantly how Sam had felt after seeing the spirit.

"Damnit Sammy, I didn't mean to…"

"I know Dean." Sam hesitated and noticed his brother was waiting for him to continue. "It's like an aftertaste, I can still remember how overwhelmed I felt like there was no other option but I'm detached from it. Like I'm watching it happen to someone else. Y'know she must have felt so totally lost and helpless, something terrible happened to her Dean if she can make anyone feel like that."

"Yeah Sam, we really should stop and feel sad for the poor, helpless little bitch that's driving people to suicide."

Sam looked at Dean but didn't comment, instead going over the scene again in his mind. When she first appeared she had accused him of killing her but that last time when she had cowered in the corner of the room was different.

"She asked for help. The last time she appeared she cried out for help and asked me not to leave her down here."

"The police checked the basement Sam and didn't find any of Landwin's victims or any other bodies."

"I know Dean but what if they missed something, I mean that would explain why she's trapped in the house. She seems to appear as different things to different people as well, reads their weaknesses. We could stop in at the Library this afternoon if you're up for it, maybe we'll get lucky."

"I'm up for it." Dean said almost begrudgingly. "But tonight we need to smoke Landwin."

They had grabbed some lunch and had been working away in the library for close to three hours. Their chatter had all but ceased and Dean was growing increasingly restless.

The movement of the fiche was making Dean's stomach roll and his aches were becoming so bad he could hardly concentrate. He had taken two pills at lunch under Sam's watchful eyes and wasn't due for a top up for at least another hour. He knew he was far exceeding the four to six hourly dosages the Doctor had prescribed but he did what he had to do. The pain only brought with it dark thoughts and images, even in the daytime now. Whilst he was almost accustomed to the waking nightmare, it was always the same – her eyes her blood – the clarity between dream and reality was slowly dissolving.

He felt his hand tremble as he moved the page down, he stared at the screen but all he saw were two accusing eyes staring back. He was mesmerised, the screen slowly turning red as blood began to ooze from the glass and drip down to splatter on his hand. He felt a hand on his shoulder and he turned, startled and breathing rapidly.

"Dean hey, you sleeping? I've been talking…" Sam stopped as he looked at the horror on Dean's face.

Dean couldn't breath. All he saw was Sam covered in blood and he froze not knowing what to do. He blinked and the blood was gone but Sam was still there. He had to get out of there, he was slipping, falling and Sam couldn't see this. "Air, I need air – outside." Dean got up and headed for the door.

"Dean? I'll meet you outside." Sam quickly packed away the resources they had used and printed several more pages from his screen. He was trying to figure out what had just happened, hoping it was just fatigue and an upset stomach but thinking there was more to it. The look on Dean's face didn't explain feeling sick. He rubbed a hand through his hair, this job was wearing on both of them and the sooner they finished it the better.

Dean was sitting on the bonnet of the car, head in hands, by the time Sam emerged from the building. As soon as he had got outside he had grabbed the near empty bottle from his jacket and swallowed another self prescribed dose. He just had to hold out until they kicked in, took the edge off. As Sam walked towards him he saw no blood and let his breath out in relief.

"Dean what happened in there, what did you see?"

'Sam I thought I was gonna hurl that's all, just needed some fresh air."

"No."

"What?"

"No Dean, cut the bullshit and tell me what happened. Please."

"What do you want me to say Sam? My head was hurting, I zoned out and I felt sick – end of story." Dean got off the bonnet and walked towards the passenger door. His mind whirled, how did Sam know, Christ this was a mess. He was a mess.

"Dean you looked at me like you didn't know me, like I was some monster. Yesterday you freaked out when you had blood on your hands. What's going on? Even your moods man, you're either so low or so high…" Sam paused, that was it. It was right before him the whole time and he hadn't caught on.

"How many pills are you taking Dean? That's it isn't it? You're taking more of those pain pills than you're letting on and they're messing with your head. I get that you're in pain Dean but you can't fix it like this."

Dean paused. That was his mistake 'cause he knew Sam read him like a book and he shouldn't have paused. It basically screamed guilty as charged so he took the only other road he was used to traveling. Silence.

Sam watched as Dean got in the car and slammed the door without another word. Shit, that went well. He hadn't intended to blurt everything out, point the finger but it just all made sense. Dean was hurting so badly and he hadn't even noticed. He hadn't noticed his brother was overdosing right before his eyes but what hurt just as much was the fact that Dean would rather hurt himself more than let Sam in to help him.

Sam got in and started the car. "I'm sorry Dean. I should've noticed, been there for you. You don't have to do this alone you know and you're not going to have to now. We'll work it out."

Dean didn't answer, couldn't answer. He was afraid his voice would betray the fact that he was spinning out of control. How could Sammy blame himself for this? That's not want he wanted, what he had intended to happen.

Sam parked at the motel and they walked into their room.

"Dean…"

"This isn't your fault Sam." Dean whispered.

"Let me help you? How many pills are you taking Dean?"

Dean sat on his bed staring at the floor. He was so tired, maybe Sam could help him 'cause this wasn't getting any better. He put a hand in his pocket and clutched the bottle for a few seconds before taking it out and holding it out to his brother.

Sam walked over and took it, sitting down on his own bed opposite Dean. "Shit it's nearly empty. You've just about doubled your dose." He tried to keep his voice even but this was bad. It meant Dean was in a lot of pain or he was now dependant on the pills or both.

"Why are you taking so many, is it your leg?"

Dean nodded. "At first. Then I took them before it started hurting 'cause I didn't want the pain. Then they just help me relax make everything seem better. Make everything seem okay for a while." Dean was trying to let Sam in but he couldn't bring himself to mention what he saw, what was really haunting him. If Sam could help him with this maybe it would fix everything.

"We'll work this out Dean okay." Sam tried to sound sure, he had to convince Dean but he was scared. Hell if Dean gave in to this there was no telling what would happen. They had both seen too many horrors, had too much baggage to let it all come apart and Dean had been stockpiling his emotions since…well for as long as Sam could remember. If Dean went over the edge it would all come crashing down on him and Sam didn't know whether he would be able to stop his brother being crushed under the weight.

"I know Sam but we need to finish this job. I need to finish this job."

Sam heard the desperate plea in his brother's voice but he also knew that Dean wasn't really asking him. Dean had already made the decision and it was just up to Sam whether they did this the easy way or the hard way. Sam felt so far out of his depth. There was no logical solution for all this, no easy out. Dean was basically a ticking time bomb and Sam knew he would have to get him through this job so he could begin to heal.

"Okay, we can do the salt and burn tonight but I'm digging. I'll agree to this as long as you sit shotgun. Landwin shouldn't turn up if he's bound to the house and then we've only got one ghost to worry about."

"Dean…I think you need to start cutting back on the pills now. I really think they're starting to mess with your head man. You're gonna have to be honest with me and let me know when it gets too bad okay. When's the last time you took some?"

Dean looked at his brother, he thought about lying but he really wanted to fix this, wanted it to be over. "The library Sam, I took two at the library."

"Okay, why don't you get some rest. I found a couple of articles I want to check out, I might have found the story we've after. The owner before Landwin was shot in public about some scandal surrounding a missing servant. Maybe it's our girl."

"I couldn't sleep Sam, how about I get us some dinner instead." He just needed to regroup, collect his thoughts.

"Sure Dean, you want me to come? Are you okay to drive?"

"I'll be fine Sam its not far, you don't need to babysit me, I'm just gonna go up the main street and find something." Dean grabbed his jacket and keys and was out the door before Sam changed his mind about coming.

He eased into the driver's seat and started the car, closing his eyes for a moment. He felt relieved and scared that he had confessed to Sam. He felt weak that he hadn't worked this out himself, that he had given in to Sam's persistence. He trusted Sam with his life but that didn't mean that his little brother should be bearing the burden of his problems as well, that's not how it worked. That's not what Dad would have wanted.

A shiver ran through his body, bringing his mind back to the task at hand. He drove off trying to clear his head of the one fact he couldn't dismiss. The next few days were going to be a bitch.

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Sam had just finished up when Dean walked back through the door with dinner, his stomach grumbling when he smelt the hot food. He filled Dean in as they ate.

"Jacob Shelby Brown, shot dead by one Benjamin Cromer at a public gathering in 1881. Mr Cromer accused him of murdering his daughter who worked as a servant in the house. There was no proof, no charges laid and Cromer was hung for murder. The daughter, Rose Cromer was never found."

"Okay so assuming Rose didn't just run off and she's the ghost, how the hell are we gonna find her remains to burn Sam?"

"Dean I'm sure she's in that house somewhere, I mean from what she said and the fact that she's bound to the house, where else could she be?"

"Well she could have been murdered in the house and buried somewhere else for a start. She's just going back to the scene of the original crime like most of the other spirits we come across."

"Think about it Dean, Brown didn't exactly get a chance to go back and cover up any evidence. That means either the girl was already dead and buried or he had kept her hidden away somewhere."

"And once he was shot, there was no one to let her out. Yeah Sam I guess but that means we're gonna have to search the house, starting with the basement. She seems to appear on the first floor, so maybe that's where she was killed but he kept her hidden in a secret room or something under the house."

"You know the other strange thing, from all accounts Landwin only appears on the ground floor - he keeps away from her. What if she drove him mad enough to commit all those murders when he was alive? What if it was her all along and she just has a different effect on each victim?"

"Then we really need to finish this Sam. I mean, I think Morton was scared away enough this time but do you think he's already been affected by whatever got to these other guys?"

"Morton seemed pretty shook up and confused but he did just see an angry ghost. All we can do Dean is finish the job. At least the effects seem to have worn off us - if either one of us was gonna be feeling something it would be you – she didn't touch me."

"It'll be dark in a few hours so at least we can get Landwin out of the way." Dean stood and grabbed the empty containers off the table, limping over to the bin.

"How're you feeling?" Sam ventured. He knew Dean hated being fussed over but at this point in time Sam was going to have to keep a close eye on his brother. Whilst Sam didn't want Dean taking too many pills he also realised that Dean was going to still need something for the pain. He also couldn't dismiss the fact that his brother had been touched by the spirit.

"I'm fine Sam." Sam frowned and shook his head. "Yeah it hurts okay but at the moment I'm fine with it."

The boys were checking their supplies and weapons and going over the location of the grave when Sam's phone rang. He spoke for a few minutes, obviously trying to calm someone on the other end before hanging up.

"Morton's dead Dean." Sam spoke slowly, deliberately. "That was Marg, she's waiting for the police but she wanted to warn us not to go back in the house 'cause she thinks it's cursed. Apparently Morton kept complaining of being cold and got increasingly delusional thinking he'd killed her. He locked himself in a room and cut himself up, bled to death."

"We screwed up, we should've…" He stopped not even knowing how he could have prevented this but there must have been some way.

"What Dean, taken him to the hospital and informed them he had seen a malignant ghost? Or maybe we could've asked Marg to keep him locked up in a straightjacket until we'd worked this out. He seemed shaken up but fine Dean, we didn't know." Sam felt just as bad but he had to try and protect Dean from this guilt.

"We could've finished the damn job Sam and maybe the ghost's influence would've stopped." Dean spoke in a low voice that was laced with the bitterness of failure.

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They arrived at the cemetery around 11pm, and drove slowly down the dirt entrance road with the lights off. Sam said a silent thank you for the public's obsession with notoriety as they came upon the well marked grave touting Landwin's crimes for all to see. It was even marked as an attraction on the town's tourist information board.

Sam climbed the small fence surrounding the gravesite, shovel in hand and began the arduous task of digging six feet under. After fifteen minutes, he had stripped down to a t-shirt and was thankful the night air was fairly cool. He waved to Dean before he started digging again.

Dean sat down on a concrete grave marker nearby, shot gun in hand. He didn't expect Landwin to turn up but he was by no means complacent either. He shivered, pulling his jacket tighter and wishing he'd put another shirt on underneath. His leg, ribs and arm thrummed in pain but he continued to ignore it.

His hand felt the two pills in his jacket pocket that Sam had given him earlier – his prescribed dose. He had felt like he was cheating when he had pretended to take them but he didn't want Sam to worry. He now wanted to do this without the pain meds and prove to himself and his brother that he wasn't a liability. He had seen the look on Sam's face, the worry, the panic…the disappointment. As much as he dreaded what was going to happen, he had to face his demons. Dealing with the physical pain was not was terrified him.

He watched Sam take his jacket off and gave him the thumbs up, his brother giving him a wave in return. He felt useless but he wasn't going to have that argument with Sam again especially when he knew Sam was right – not that he was going to admit that out loud. He needed the space and Sam probably did too. They both felt like crap that Morton was dead, they had let Marg down when she'd asked for their help.

Another twenty minutes passed and Dean shivered violently as he felt icy fingers down his back and stood quickly swinging the shotgun around at…nothing. Shit.

He then gasped as he felt the ice move through his veins, his hands almost losing their grip on the gun. His hands. God they were dripping with blood, what had he done? Images flashed through his mind making his head spin and his stomach lurch. He saw a knife, his knife, slice across his brother's throat and again across his chest. And again and again.

Dean dropped to his knees horrified, shaking his head. "No." He would never hurt Sammy but…but he had. He remembered. His mind was replaying all the gory details in colour so he couldn't deny it, couldn't escape from it. Sam looked surprised, confused but wouldn't turn away, wouldn't take his eyes away from his brother. His killer.

"No, no, no, no." Blood trickled out of Sam's mouth before he finally fell without a sound. Dean reached down and turned him over, saw brown eyes watching him almost hopefully as he plunged the knife into Sam's heart. And twisted it.

Dean gagged. It wasn't real it couldn't be real he just had to find Sam and everything would be okay. He stood swaying, staggering to stay on his feet. "Sam. Sammy!" He didn't notice the tears he shed or even register where he was and why he was there.

He looked around and saw an open grave not too far away but he couldn't see Sam. An image of Sam's bloody body lying crumpled in the bottom of the grave sprang to his mind. "No."

Oh God it was real, he'd killed Sammy. Dean was panting now from fear, he knew he had to look in the grave and he knew what he would find. He closed his eyes and saw dead eyes staring back at him. He'd killed Greta and now he'd killed Sammy. What was wrong with him?

"No." Dean couldn't breath, he couldn't think. He couldn't live.

Dean stopped. He wouldn't look, he couldn't see again how he'd hurt Sammy, too much it was too much. He limped back to the weapons bag near where he'd been sitting - he knew what he had to do though, what he deserved. So fucking cold.

Dean took his jacket and long shirt off and calmly sat down cross legged on the concrete, staring at the hunting knife in his hand. It was honed to razor sharpness and he hardly felt it when it pierced his shoulder and he drew it across his chest. He watched as the blood spilled down his ripped t-shirt and out from under his sleeve. He looked at the cast on his lower arm and wished it wasn't there so he could run the knife all the way down. He knew it had to be slow, had to hurt. Nothing too quick and easy. He didn't deserve that.

Dean moved the knife to his other hand and held it awkwardly against the cast. He sliced across the top of the other shoulder, the pain from the earlier wound now starting to bite. Blood poured from his shoulder - that was deeper, better. He paused again as shivers and pain wracked through him making him momentarily lose focus.

His usual sharp instincts and intuitiveness smothered by a cold poison that had begun to creep through his very soul. The darkness that now circled Dean's mind only asked for one thing, one justice that would make everything alright again. After all if Sammy was dead, so was he.

"I'm so sorry Sammy." He whispered as he raised the knife again.

_tbc…_


	7. Chapter 7

**The Ghost Within**

_**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Supernatural…obviously.**_

_a/n: Thanx again for those that have reviewed – your time and comments have been much appreciated as usual (including __mikiss and maz101 who I couldn't respond to directly)._

_lb._

**Chapter 7**

Sam suddenly jarred his shoulder when he finally hit wood beneath his shovel. He was sure some diligent grave digger had gone for seven feet under instead of six on this one. He cracked the rotten timbers to see the skeleton of the mass murderer grinning back up at him in the moonlight.

Sam scrambled up and out of the hole he had dug, looking around for Dean and the bag. He squinted in the direction he had last seen his brother and waved when he saw Dean still sitting in the same spot. Sam waved again and started walking, maybe Dean couldn't see him in the darkness. As Sam got closer he saw the glint of metal moving in the night and looked around wildly thinking Dean had seen some threat.

Two more steps and he saw the reality of the situation but wasn't quite willing to accept it.

Another two steps and Sam ran forward knowing he had to stop any more damage.

'Dean stop!" Sam sobbed dropping to his knees in front of his brother. He wanted to get the knife away but didn't want to startle Dean, his eyes were glazed and he was shivering so hard it was amazing he could hold the knife at all.

"Dean please give me the knife, let me help you. Please." Sam slowly held his hand out.

Dean looked at Sam, tilting his head in an almost childlike manner, his face suddenly breaking into a grin.

"I know it's not you Sammy 'cause you're dead. I killed you." The point of the knife was now resting on Dean's cheekbone and as Sam watched, it pierced his skin and a thin line of blood appeared.

"Dean it is me, it's Sam. Remember we came here to burn Landwin's bones." Sam knew he had to make a move and slowly placed a hand on Dean's knee. As he moved forward he caught sight of the large red stain spreading down the front of his brother's dark t-shirt. "You need to give me the knife so I can help you man. Please trust me Dean."

At Sam's touch Dean's eyes widened and he shook his head confused, his head hitting the knife before he moved it away. More blood pouring down his cheek from the open gash.

"Sam? You were dead like Greta, I couldn't save her either. I know…I know I hurt you Sam and I have to hurt myself now so everything's okay again. She told me what to do but I'm scared Sam, I'm no good without you. I can't do this by myself." Dean was breathing so hard now, his body rocking back and forth as he sat.

"Help me Sammy."

Sam's heart twisted at his brother's whispered words, at his brother's anguished face and his eyes – so lost, so haunted. He reached a hand out and slowly gripped Dean's wrist, taking the knife away and placing it behind him. Sam breathed a sigh of relief trying to stay calm as a hundred thoughts and concerns wildly crisscrossed his mind, fragmenting his thought process. What the hell had happened here?

"It's okay now, I'm gonna look after you, I'm gonna help you." Sam sat down beside his brother and placed a hand on the back of his neck. "Dean you're bleeding a lot I need to…"

"There's always blood Sam, it doesn't stop. I see it when I close my eyes it's always there. I tried to stop the pills Sam, so I could fix it and the blood would go away but it's worse now. It's your blood now Sam and I can't live with that. "

Dean was so turned around he didn't know what was real anymore. Sam was dead then Sam was here but if he blinked again he saw his brother standing in front of him and covered in blood. She was telling him he should be sorry 'cause it was his fault. Dean felt a warm hand on the back of his neck and another now on his chest and he opened his eyes again. He could feel warmth and calmness radiating out from the touch.

"Sam?' He wanted to be sure, he wanted this to be real and clung to Sam's voice like a lifeline. Not really hearing or caring what was said but just knowing the voice that had grounded him since forever.

'I'm here Dean, not going anywhere. I've got you." Sam had placed a hand on his brother's chest knowing he needed the physical reality of his presence. He knew he had to get Dean back to the motel, maybe the hospital but there was something Dean had said that made him stop.

"Dean, did you take the pills I gave you before?" Sam's brain was working at full speed now. Maybe the double dose of pain pills had somehow dulled Dean's reaction to the ghost's touch but if he had stopped taking them…

"M'sorry Sam, I tried to stop so I wasn't so fucked up." Dean laughed bitterly. "Guess what? I'm fucked up anyway Sam don't need any pills to do it." He reached into his pocket and held the pills out.

"Take them. You need to take them now Dean, maybe it'll give us a bit more time." It was a long shot but it was their only shot. If Dean was showing the same symptoms as Morton then Sam couldn't leave his brother alone, not until they had finished this once and for all. Maybe Dean had been right before, getting rid of the ghost might stop her influence. He had to be right.

Sam stood up as he watched Dean dry swallow the pills. He quickly placed the blood stained knife and Dean's discarded rifle in the bag and closed the zip looking around. A chill went through him as he thought what would have happened had Dean chosen the rifle and not the knife. Better not to think about it.

He needed to get Dean back to the motel but he had to finish the salt and burn so they could get in the house. However there was no way he was leaving Dean here. He grabbed Dean's shirt and used it as a makeshift bandage over the worst area of bleeding, tying the sleeves around Dean's chest to secure it. He then placed the jacket around his brother's shoulders gently, trying not to aggravate the wounds

"Dean I need you to move over here with me so I can finish this, it's only gonna take a few minutes." Sam helped Dean to his feet, concerned at how unsteady he was and hoping he was doing the right thing. When they reached the grave Sam threw his jacket on the ground sitting Dean down with his back against the small fence. He took the bag with him and stepped over to the grave finding the salt and pouring it into the hole, glancing over every few seconds to where Dean sat unmoving. The kerosene then the match finished the job.

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Sam finally pulled up at the motel, Dean had wavered between incoherent and confused most of the journey back but had grown quiet in the last few minutes. Sam was thankful the parking lot was deserted save for a few cars outside already darkened rooms. He cut the engine and hurried around to the passenger side where Dean had not even attempted to open the door.

Sam half dragged half carried his brother into their room and laid him on the bed. He sat down and felt Dean's forehead, surprised at the heat although the shivers seemed to have eased a little. He stood to go and get the supplies he needed but felt a hand grip his arm.

"Sam…I thought I'd killed you. God it was so real, the blood. Her voice was in my head, I couldn't stop cutting…I didn't mean…shit." Dean closed his eyes his hand still around Sam's arm.

"Hey you know you didn't hurt me Dean, you can see that now can't you?" Sam sat back down, relieved to see his brother seemed to be grasping reality, struggling to maintain some control. He just needed to be sure, hear it from Dean.

"I think…yeah I know. It's the pills Sam, they're the only thing that's keeping her away. I need to keep taking them, at least until we finish this Sam. I can't…I don't know if I can hold it together much more." Dean tried to sit up but failed dismally. "I can't keep seeing you die Sammy."

Sam nodded, standing up again and gently removing Dean's hand. "I need to clean you up now though okay I need to get some towels and stuff but I won't be long." Sam waited until Dean nodded his understanding, He needed to keep his brother calm while he sorted this out. Dean was right though, he was going to have to keep taking an overdose of the pills so he wouldn't kill himself. Maybe he might laugh at the irony of that one day - in about a hundred years.

Dean felt the bed shift as Sam got up, his heart pounded as he tried to focus on what was real 'cause the lines were awful blurry there for a while. His shoulders and chest hurt where the knife had cut but the real pain was the memory, the fear that he had killed his own brother. He could still feel the utter despair that had coursed through him, blotting out everything else until there was only one way out. God, how could he be controlled like that, his hand shook as he raised it and rubbed it across his face. He was surprised when it came away bloody – he didn't remember doing that. He felt the bed shift again.

"Dean?" Sam spoke gently, concerned at the confused way Dean was staring at the blood on his hand. "Dean, you still with me?"

"Yeah Sam."

"I need you to sit up for a minute." Sam helped his brother up from the pillow, and took the jacket off his shoulders and unwrapped the now blood soaked shirt. Sam inhaled sharply when he finally saw the extent of the damage and the amount of blood Dean had lost. He panicked for a moment thinking he had made a mistake not taking Dean to a hospital but there was no time for that now.

Sam pulled the bottom of the shirt up, noticing the top of Dean's jeans were also stained dark red, Dean winced as the material pulled on the drying blood, drawing ragged breaths as he tried to move his arms up to help. Sam realised the only way was to cut the shirt off and he retrieved some scissors from the kit he had placed beside the bed. By the time Sam had removed the t-shirt, Dean was struggling to stay upright so Sam wasted no time placing a clean towel underneath Dean's back and laying him back down. He quickly removed his brother's shoes and jeans as well.

Sam had found a hand towel from the bathroom and a plastic bucket under the sink and had filled it with warm water. He tried to ignore the flinches and gasps from Dean as his brother did his best to stifle his pain. Sam cleaned most of the blood away, noticing that at least one cut along Dean's shoulder would need stitches.

"Dean I'm gonna have to stitch your shoulder. I'm sorry…"

"S'okay Sam." Dean didn't open his eyes.

"The painkillers should help a bit but tell me if it gets too bad okay." Sam began disinfecting the needle and medical thread and then swabbed some gauze and gently patted it around and finally along the worst cut. He had done this so many times before but that still didn't stop him breaking into a sweat when he heard the agonised groan and saw the pain filled features of his brother's face.

Sam finally cleaned his own hands again and then picked the needle up and began the gruesome task of sewing up his own brother. His hands trembled each time he finished a stitch and he wished Dean would just pass out.

"I've only got a couple to go now okay, it's nearly finished." Sam didn't know if he was trying to convince himself or Dean but as he started on the next stitch he felt his brother relax, his head rolling slightly to the side. Sam finished another three stitches and carefully tied and cut the thread. He drew in a shaky breath allowing his eyes to close for a moment before they opened to again rest on the still form on the bed.

"We'll finish this Dean and you'll be okay. I promise."

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Sam sat on the edge of his bed, head in hands as his mind tried to sort through the events of the last day. He had quickly showered after he had finished stitching Dean's wounds and his brother had not stirred. Christ he wanted so badly for this to be over so he could just look after his brother, let him heal but that wasn't going to happen until they had dealt with this bitch of a ghost. He couldn't even leave Dean here, keep him safe whilst he found the remains and banished the ghost 'cause he couldn't risk leaving Dean alone.

Sam stood, checking Dean's breathing before he walked over to the table and sat down turning his laptop on with a tired sigh. He had to check and recheck everything they had 'cause there was no more room for error and no matter how tired he was, he didn't want Dean to wake up alone.

Sam went over every bit of information and then over it again. The remains of Rose had to be in the house somewhere, it had to be her or a victim like her. Shit he couldn't even confirm the very piece of information they would be risking their lives on – risking Dean's life. He banged his fist on the table in frustration. He had to be missing something, there must be someplace in that house that was overlooked. He stared at the screen concentrating so hard he almost missed the small sound behind him. Almost but not quite.

"Dean?" He turned to see his brother stirring, head moving from side to side.

Sam sat down on the edge of the bed. "Hey you gonna wake up sometime soon?"

Dean's eyes fluttered between opened and closed a few times before they finally decided on mostly open.

"Sam?" Dean took a sudden breath, eyes opening wide as he looked around and back at Sam as if trying to establish what he was really seeing. "Sam…I thought you, I thought I'd…." Dean closed his eyes as if afraid to look again. "You okay Sammy?" He whispered.

"Dean I'm okay. It wasn't real, you didn't hurt me man but that ghost - she's messing with your head. She made you hurt yourself." Sam watched his brother carefully, hoping he would be able to keep a grasp on reality.

Dean slowly sat up groaning as the movement caused the stitches and fresh wounds to pull and sting. His body ached so much he almost felt numb, not able to tell where one injury started and another finished. Hs thoughts were muddled, unreliable but he knew the pain from the cuts he had made, had deserved. He looked at his brother, alive, sitting next to him. Without thinking he reached out and grabbed Sam's shoulder, relief flooding his senses when he knew for sure Sam was really there, was really unharmed.

Sam placed a hand on Dean's outstretched arm realising Dean had had to prove he could trust what he saw. "This is real Dean, we're alright."

Dean cautiously moved his legs so his feet were on the floor and he sat shoulder to shoulder beside his brother, looking around the room and trying to regroup his thoughts. He shook his head when he noticed the open laptop on the table and the fact that Sam's bed was still made. "So research boy, did you get any sleep at all?"

"I couldn't sleep but the research was a waste of time. I couldn't find anything to prove the remains of Rose or anyone else are in the house but I…I don't know - I just know they're in there somewhere Dean. I've got to be missing something." Sam ran a hand over his face, he was angry at himself for not coming up with a clear lead. It meant they would have to go in the house just about as clueless as they did the last time. And that had gone so well. The only thing in their favour this time was the fact that there would only be one ghost not two.

Of course the remaining ghost was the psychotic, angrier ghost that had the suicide touch but why should that be any surprise. Why would this job be any different from the others they had worked – no pain no gain.

"Take it easy Sam, we've gone in with less before and we'll finish it just the same." Dean tried to sound confident, he could feel the tension and guilt coming from his brother and knew Sam was taking responsibility for things that were out of his control. Truth was, Dean knew Sammy had his back and trusted him with his life but his greater concern was that he wouldn't be there for his brother - that this ghost would start playing mind games on him and Sam would get hurt.

"Just promise me Sam that if things go bad you'll get your arse out of there if I…if I lose it again. You can't…Sam you can't trust me to look out for you okay." Dean's voice was low, barely keeping his emotions in check as he betrayed the one promise he held most precious. He couldn't even trust himself to keep Sam safe.

Dean wasn't sure if it was just the cold or not but he suddenly felt a chill along his skin and he panicked slightly, wondering if he was about to go under the ghost's spell again. "Sam I think I better have a couple of pills, it's been a while."

Sam sensed his brother's fear as Dean shivered involuntarily and he quickly rose to get the tablets. "Here, have some juice as well and you should try and eat something if you can."

"Sam, I don't know if I can eat."

"Just try would you. You've lost a lot of blood Dean and you need to look after yourself. How you gonna kick any ghost butt if you can't even lift your own off the bed? Maybe we should wait another day?"

"No Sam. We'll do what we need to do in the morning, I need to finish this. Just remember what I said okay?"

"Dean whatever happens, I am not leaving that place without you so don't even try and make me promise. I also know that you are the strongest person I know and probably the most stubborn so if anyone can fight this, you can. You've just got to trust yourself Dean, I know you would never hurt me, you've got to believe that… no matter what happens. "

"Sam…"

"No Dean, I'm not having this discussion. If you're not gonna eat, we should grab a couple hours sleep and then if you're up for it we finish this." Sam didn't wait for an answer and started shutting down the computer then sat on his bed to remove his shoes.

"And I'm the stubborn one!" Dean shook his head and eased himself back down on the bed, wincing as his body protested each and every movement. He felt a surge of strength from Sam's belief in him but a nagging voice within prayed it wasn't misplaced faith.

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Sam had dozed fitfully for a couple of hours, still too concerned about his brother to relax in a deep sleep although his body craved it. He went over a plan in his mind trying to formulate the best search pattern in the most likely areas of the Landwin house. His eyes constantly glanced over at Dean's sleeping form and each time he saw the bandages on his brother's upper body he was reminded how much worse it could have been, nearly had been.

The fact that Dean had slept again without stirring was partially due to the drugs but Sam knew it was also testimony to the fact that Dean must be exhausted, surely near breaking point.

Sam quietly got up and made coffee from the few supplies they had in their room and then began checking the weaponry and provisions they would need for the job. It would be best to get going soon so they had as much daylight as possible to find the remains and destroy them. Sam once again felt trapped between a rock and a hard place knowing there was no alternative but also almost sick with worry and concern by the fact he had to drag his injured brother along for this hunt.

"Hmmm coffee." Dean's weary voice broke Sam's reverie and he turned, relieved to see Dean sitting up and looking a little better. He made another cup and placed the steaming liquid down on the bedside table. Sam then poured a cup of orange juice and placed it beside the coffee, ignoring the bemused stare from his older sibling.

"How you feeling?"

Dean paused as if he was still deciding the answer. "Been better been worse I guess. Just want this hunt over with Sam." He added quietly.

"I know Dean me too but if you need another day, if you're not…"

"Sam, I can do this okay. I know you're worried and, and I guess I am too but waiting isn't going to make it any easier." Dean stood and stretched his neck and shoulders, grimacing at the tight pull of the stitches and the ache that still plagued his left leg. "I'm just gonna wash and I'll give you a hand. Make sure you don't pack the pepper instead of the salt."

"Jerk."

"Freak."

Sam grinned as he watched Dean head for the bathroom, still favouring his left leg. Dean was absolutely pedantic about the weapons bag and normally took it upon himself to pack it and check and recheck every weapon it contained. The fact that he was even allowing Sam to do this task without nagging supervision said a lot about his current frame of mind. It was also like a neon sign for Sam that read along the lines of 'he trusts you with his life'.

Sam had always assumed he had that responsibility anyway. Dean however seemed to fight him every inch of the way when he tried to exercise that right. It didn't really bother him 'cause he knew the simple fact was that he would die without hesitation to save Dean's life. The only problem was with Dean, sometimes it was damn hard to tell when he needed saving.

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Dean leaned over the sink splashing cold water over his face with one hand, not really caring as the cold droplets ran down his neck onto the gauze covering his shoulders, arms and chest. Blood droplets had dried on the wrist cast and stained the fingers of his left hand as a reminder of the past night. He stared into the mirror wondering when he started looking so tired, so worn.

He had to get through this for Sam, he could see the strain and worry on his brother's face, his eyes shouting a thousand concerns that Dean knew he would never voice. That would be unacceptable, unWinchester. Although Sam did have a way of inflicting far too many chick flick moments, Dean was grateful for his brother's strength. Since Dad…well Sam was all there was, there was no one else, nothing else. All dead. Like Greta, his fault.

Christ he had to get a grip, he felt himself slipping again as his body shuddered. It seemed the effect of the pills was lessening each time and Dean could feel his mind wander. Thoughts that he was sure weren't his, skittered through his mind leaving him gasping for breath and confused. He needed to take the pain meds now but he didn't want Sam to see him like this again. He closed his eyes trying to steady his breathing but all he saw in the darkness was Sammy lying at his feet, chest torn open and a knife sticking out from his heart.

"No!" Dean opened his eyes to escape the nightmare backing away from the mirror until his back hit the wall with a thud. Dean was unaware as his body slid down the wall coming to rest on the cold tiles, too focused on refuting the image of his dead brother to care.

Sam paused, hearing a bang on the wall in the bathroom and stood still holding the salt canister he was about to pack. He briefly considered the idea of letting his brother be for a moment but he was too on edge to ignore it.

"Dean?"

"Dean?"

Sam burst through the door not bothering to knock and found his brother hunched against the wall breathing rapidly. Dean looked up at him in confusion and panic and Sam could tell he was fighting for control.

"Sammy? I wouldn't hurt you Sammy, I didn't mean to…I need to take them now Sam. The pills they're not lasting as long."

"Easy Dean, take it easy I'll get them." Sam quickly returned and watched as Dean dry swallowed two tablets not waiting for the water. Shit it had only been a couple of hours since the last two.

"Sam, you're okay right?"

"Dean I'm here, I'm fine man. Remember what I said, no matter what happens you've got to trust yourself. You wouldn't hurt me Dean okay. C'mon let's get you out of here."

Sam helped his brother back to the bed, alarmed again at how quickly this latest episode had hit. Dean seemed to have calmed down although he was still trembling and had gripped Sam's arm in a vice as they had walked from the bathroom.

"Sam we have to go now. I don't know how long I'm gonna be able to control this and I can't let you do this alone."

"I know." Sam spoke quietly, hating the fact that he knew there was no other way. "But you've gotta promise me we stay together at the house okay. I'll get you through this Dean."

Dean looked at Sam's face, the full realisation of how much he needed to hear that, needed someone to save him, hit him full force and he momentarily closed his eyes until the rush of emotion passed. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

_tbc…_


	8. Chapter 8

**The Ghost Within**

_**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Supernatural…obviously.**_

**Chapter 8**

The Impala pulled up outside the Landwin house and Sam killed the engine. There had been little conversation during the short trip except to go over the brief details of their plan. Sam took in a deep breath and looked over at Dean. "You ready for this?"

Dean nodded turning his head towards Sam and giving him a grin. "Always Sammy."

Sam shook his head smiling and climbed out of the car, walking round to the trunk. He knew the drugs were partly responsible but he also knew his brother was putting on the bravado for his benefit, lifting the mood and tension before they went in to battle so to speak. He found himself almost shaking as he opened the weapons bag and began arming himself, Dean doing the same. Sam knew this was probably going to get messy, hell he knew it would and his nerves and senses were already on high alert.

Dean was grateful for the temporary reprieve the pills had delivered, he felt calm almost detached from the pain in his body but he could sense the tension coming from his brother in waves. "Just another ghost hunt Sammy. We find the remains and we toast this bitch."

"It's not just another hunt Dean, there's more at stake this time and I'm not letting anything happen to you."

"You've got to get your head around this Sam and not do anything stupid you hear me. I need you to focus on finding where the hell the body is, not babysitting me."

"Yeah, well I'm gonna do both so quit arguing about it." Sam watched as Dean pulled out the near empty bottle of pills and shook two tablets onto his hand. They had agreed Dean needed to have them close in case he felt like he was losing control but Sam frowned knowing he had taken the last lot just over an hour ago.

"I just wanna make sure Sam." Dean picked the bag up and closed the trunk hoping Sam didn't notice the waver in his voice. He had to watch Sam's back but if this thing got a hold of him again he didn't know if he would be able to do his job. He started walking up the path with Sam beside him matching his stride.

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The boys entered the house guns drawn, quickly checking the ground floor and relieved to see no sign of Landwin. Anyone observing them would notice they moved in unison, bodies tensed and muscles flexed as they silently checked each room, communicating effortlessly with eyes and hand signals.

Sam signaled towards the basement glancing quickly at his brother to check his progress. Dean seemed to be operating at full speed but Sam wondered what toll it was taking and how long it would last. He pushed his thoughts aside to focus on the task at hand, flicking the light switch on as Dean moved past him down the steep stairs holding a rifle in one hand and the EMF detector in the other.

The air was dusty and cool as they reached the bottom of the stairs and began searching the dingy room. Old pieces of furniture and a stack of old cardboard boxes littered the floor along with cobwebs and dust bunnies the size of small rodents which Dean eyed warily.

Sam drew his hand back in disgust as he moved boxes to get to the wall and came away with a handful of cardboard, rotten and green with mildew. "I think the maid missed a spot."

"Suck it up princess, at least there's no rats." Dean moved over to the other wall, using his foot to move obstacles out of his way as he went. "I don't see anywhere there could be an opening Sam and I can't feel any air movement down here.

After nearly an hour of searching, Sam stood in frustration having checked every inch of the floor as well. He watched as Dean used a discarded curtain rod to tap the higher areas of the wall, only succeeding in bringing a shower of dust and brick particles down upon them.

Dean could now taste the dirt in his mouth and looked towards his younger brother when the expected complaint didn't come. Sam was standing lost in thought as the dust settled around him but suddenly turned to face Dean.

"We know only Landwin seemed to appear on the ground floor right, so we've got to assume that was where he was bound for whatever reason. The girl keeps appearing on the first floor, mainly in the master bedroom but she cried about being left down somewhere so we assumed she meant here. What if there was another room down here Dean but we just can't see it."

"Sam if we can't see it I don't know how…"

"What if the entrance is in the main bedroom?"

"Huh. A passage behind the walls, yeah that would work. Only we're gonna have to deal with the ghost while we work and I don't think she'll be too thrilled about having us there." Dean fought to keep the fear out of his voice. He couldn't let this ghost lay a hand on Sam, he knew his brother felt the effect last time just being in the room, seeing Jess, wanting to….

"It's worth a shot Dean, there's gotta be a reason she appears in that room."

"Okay but I'll take point while you look." Dean had said the words out of habit and his heart skittered for a moment as he questioned his own ability. He steeled his jaw as he forced any self doubt out of his mind – right here, right now he was up for it. His hand unconsciously patted his jacket confirming the location of the pill bottle.

Dean picked up his rifle and checked his pocket, making sure the extra salt rounds were within easy reach then moved his hand to his back, adjusting the gun in his waistband. He ditched the EMF reader back in the bag figuring they already knew where the spirit would be and he would rather have his hands free for weapons.

Sam slung the bag over his shoulder, handgun loaded with rock salt at the ready. With a final look to each other that spoke volumes, they made their way back up the stairs.

They didn't pause when they reached the foot of the stairs leading up to the first floor but ascended steadily, instincts honed for any danger with Sam in the lead.

Dean watched ahead as he moved up the stairs behind Sam, glancing behind them every few steps to ensure they wouldn't be blindsided by the unexpected. Just because this spirit hadn't been seen on the ground floor didn't mean he would assume anything that endangered their safety.

The confidence showing in his younger brother's movements also didn't go unnoticed and he suddenly felt proud of Sam. For all his street wise and smarts however, Dean had no idea that he was the source of that confidence.

The ache in Dean's leg increased as they reached the top of the stairs and he felt himself breaking out in a sweat but he didn't slacken his stride in case Sam drew too far ahead. He had promised his brother they would stay together but the main motivation for his acquiescence to that request had been for Sam's safety not his own. He remembered his feeling of helplessness the last time when the door had slammed shut separating them and he had no wish to repeat that scenario.

Sam headed straight for the master bedroom pausing momentarily before crossing the threshold into the room past the remnants of the splintered door. He noticed the splatters of blood on the wall beside the door, Dean's blood. He wondered briefly how much more blood would have to be spilled on this job before they could move on, before Dean could start healing. Sam's thoughts snapped back into focus as he stepped around the smashed mirror and his eyes swept the room.

"Okay Sam do your thing. If there's gonna be a hidden entrance it's got to be behind some of this furniture. Give me a hand here." Dean motioned to the closest piece, a dark wooden tallboy next to the dresser. He balanced the rifle awkwardly in his left hand as he braced his shoulder against the wood whilst Sam grabbed the other end. It was solid wood and it took both boys to slide it out from the wall enough for Sam to slide in behind it, torch in hand.

Dean took up a position adjacent to Sam where he could view the whole room. He held the rifle poised, knowing it was a case of when not if the ghost appeared. He felt a chill and was alarmed to see the rifle shaking in his hands as he felt a shudder go through his body when the room temperature dropped.

"Sam."

"There's nothing behind this one." Sam stood in time to see his brother tense and he quickly drew the hand gun from his waistband.

Dean saw the spirit appear in the far corner of the room opposite the door, she slowly held her arm out towards them. He saw the same young girl as before, dark eyes dark hair and wondered fleetingly who his brother was seeing. Dean felt the coldness in the room seep through his clothes as he pumped the rifle, dissipating the threat with a blast of rock salt. As he felt the recoil through his body, he heard a crash as the tallboy slid into the wall.

Sam cried out turning slightly as he braced a shoulder and his empty hand before the piece of furniture slammed into him. His shoulder and hip hit the wall as the wood impacted his body.

"Sammy?"

"I'm fine." Sam pushed against the wood as Dean grabbed one corner and moved the drawers enough for Sam to slide out.

Sam bypassed the small dresser and crossed to the far corner of the room where a large wardrobe stood. "I think we're gonna have to tip this Dean."

Dean positioned himself on the other side of the wardrobe, leaning the rifle against the wall beside him. "On three Sam, let's make this quick. One, two, three."

The wardrobe tipped precariously forward, threatening to fall back the way it had come for a moment before crashing forward, the impact sending vibrations through the floorboards.

Dean was sweating from the effort but couldn't shake the chill from inside his body. As he straightened up to look at Sam he heard a noise from across the room and saw with horror the broken pieces of mirror suspended in the air, the spirit standing in the doorway.

"Down!" He yelled at Sam as in one movement he snatched the rifle and fired in midair as he closed his eyes, wincing in anticipation as he saw the broken shards of glass moving towards them. As his body slammed down on the back of the wardrobe, pain echoing through his injuries, he hoped he had warned Sam in time.

As Dean landed and turned slightly, both arms outstretched holding the rifle secure, a small bottle fell unnoticed from his jacket and rolled across the floor coming to rest against the wall.

Sam had hit the floor on Dean's command, catching a glimpse of the moving glass as he heard the rifle shot. He felt a sting as the projectiles hit his head and exposed forearm where his shirt sleeves were rolled up but sprang quickly to his feet, more concerned about his brother. He was relieved to see Dean sit up and awkwardly scramble off the wardrobe still clutching the rifle. There was blood running down his brother's face from several cuts along his forehead and cheek.

"Dean you okay?"

"You're bleeding Sam." Dean's voice sounded raw as he ignored the question squinting instead at several cuts on Sam's cheek and across one ear. He squeezed his eyes closed, wiping a hand across his forehead which came away covered in blood and sweat.

He looked at Sam, and gasped when he realised there was blood pouring out from a deep gash across Sam's throat. He moved quickly, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder to check the wound and…it was gone. He hastily removed his hand and turned, reloading the rifle. "Move it Sam, we're running out of time."

Sam moved to check the wall, knowing Dean was being influenced again by the ghost. "Try and focus Dean. Remember don't trust what you see man, I'm okay." Sam hoped his voice didn't betray the fact that he too felt a sense of guilt and despair washing over him and invading his thoughts, strengthening each time the ghost made an appearance as Jessica.

No matter how much Sam tried to steel himself against the ache in his heart each time he saw her, he couldn't stop the flow of emotions even though he knew it wasn't really her.

"Here, there's something here." Sam saw the rectangular shaped anomaly in the wood straight away as he crouched down, pushing his hands against the wooden panel but not able to move it. Without waiting to retrieve the axe from the duffel bag he raised his foot and sent it smashing into the wood, splintering the surface. He paused then to grab the axe, not wanting to snag his leg on the sharp pieces of wood, widening the opening to reveal a narrow, dust covered stairway.

Sam felt the air chill again and jumped when the rifle cracked next to him. He looked up as Dean staggered back, bracing himself against the wall breathing heavily. Throwing caution to the wind, he threw the axe in the bag and grabbed the torch instead hoping his brother was still coherent enough to manage the rifle. Slinging the bag over his shoulder and stepping into the opening, he grabbed Dean's elbow and pulled him into the wall behind him.

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Dean felt Sam's hand on his arm but barely registered where he was, half lost in his nightmare. Images flashed through his mind on fast forward, and he tried hard to concentrate on Sam's proximity. He wasn't sure if he moaned out loud when his mind's eye turned the rifle he was holding into a knife, slick with blood that also covered his hand and forearm.

"God Sam." He drew in ragged breaths, now shivering uncontrollably as Sam's hand felt like it was burning into his arm. He pulled back panicking, trying to focus on his surroundings illuminated only by Sam's torch.

"Dean, c'mon it's okay. We must be close, its power seems to be stronger but we've got to fight this. I'm sorry man." Sam turned awkwardly in the small space, moving his hand to Dean's shoulder. His brother was visibly shaking, eyes wide and too bright in the torchlight but he managed to shake his head in acknowledgement.

All he wanted to do was get Dean out of here, away from this place that was breaking down a lifetime of carefully built walls, revealing his older brother's raw fear and emotion. As much as he wanted Dean to open up to him, trust him with those very feelings that were being exposed, this was not the way. This tearing and gutting was only doing more damage and Sam had to just stand by and bear witness.

He took a breath. He put up his own wall around the emotion flooding his head, his heart, every time he heard Dean take a ragged breath behind him. He directed his thoughts to the hunt, the set of his jaw and the intensity in his eyes illustrating the fact that he could construct his own defenses. He had, after all learnt from the master.

Sam finally saw the opening at the end of the steep staircase and felt his stomach knot and twist as an image of both Jess and Dean writhing in flames left him short of breath. Christ this bitch was getting stronger and playing dirty, getting in his head. If she could do this to him and hadn't laid a hand on him, God knows how Dean was holding it together.

Sam reluctantly let go of his hold on Dean and withdrew his gun, checking the clip. He looped the torch cord around his wrist. "I reckon she's gonna be waiting for us. Can you manage the rifle?"

"Dean?"

"Yeah, m'good." Dean reached into his jacket he needed to take another pill 'cause this was going to hell and fast. Shit!

Sam wasn't convinced but it was going to have to do – he had to keep Dean in sight in case…well just in case.

He descended the last few steps, shrugging the bag down onto his wrist and throwing it out onto the floor below before following it in one smooth motion. As his torchlight followed the point of the rifle, his instincts sensed something close to his left and he stepped back and fired simultaneously as he was thrown off his feet and into the wall behind him by an unseen force.

Grimacing in pain from the impact he scrambled for the gun which lay against the wall several feet to his right. As his hand touched the muzzle he felt as though his blood had frozen and looked up to see the girl right before him, his eyes widening as he knew he couldn't move fast enough. As his brain went into survival mode, some part of his consciousness felt relieved it wasn't Jessica looking down at him.

"Don't let her touch you Sammy." Dean's voice preceded the rifle shot and the ghost was once again banished for the moment as rock salt rained down on Sam.

Dean swayed slightly and then staggered over to his brother, holding a hand out to help him off the floor. As Sam stood up, Dean placed a hand tentatively over his brother's heart, frowning. "I…had to check. I thought…" Dean glanced at his brother from the corner of his eye not wanting to continue, not wanting Sam to know for sure that he had well and truly lost the plot but the hunter within told him otherwise.

"Don't rely on me Sam, I don't…I can't tell what's real." Even as Dean spoke he saw Sam's eyes roll in his head and blood pour from his mouth.

_You did this. Killer. MURDERER_.

"No, I wouldn't hurt him." Her voice in his mind was so accusing, so real, so…right.

"You need to take the pills now Dean."

"Jesus Sammy." Dean groaned as if in pain.

"Dean the pills." Sam went to reach into his brother's jacket.

"Gone." Dean's voice was low, desperate.

"Shit." Sam grabbed the rifle still in his brother's hand and quickly reloaded salt rounds and handed it back. "Okay Dean all you have to do is shoot the bitch wherever she appears. I'm gonna be right beside you and if you hear me talking I can't be hurt right? I know you can do this Dean."

Sam didn't wait for an answer but started looking around the small almost cave like room for the first time. He grabbed two more torches out of the bag and secured them onto the exposed ceiling beams so there was enough light to see the entire space. There were several chairs, a tall wooden cupboard and a narrow table in one corner of the room and an old clock which had long stopped keeping time. A rusted bed frame sat against the wall, with an old mattress ridden with holes exposing rusty wire and stuffing.

"Oh God she must have been kept in here somewhere."

Another gruesome discovery was a smaller table next to the bed, littered with an array of nails, a nasty looking spiked chain and small hand tools. Coils of rope and barbed wire littered the floor. The dark stain that covered the implements was so old but there was no mistaking what it was and Sam felt sick to his stomach. It was like a secret torture chamber.

Underneath these items and hidden from view, lay a pair of pliers still clamped around something small and white.

Sam took a step towards a large wooden box at the other end of the mattress when the ghost appeared in front of it. "You must be punished." She whispered before being hit by a round of rock salt from each of the boys' weapons.

Sam was relieved to see Dean move with him towards the box, although obviously struggling, fighting against what was going on in his head.

Dean reached down placing a hand on the lid. "It's nailed shut." Dean turned and grabbed the bag from the floor where Sam had left it and took the axe out. "Watch my back Sam."

"Dean let me, you're gonna…"

"I got it Sam." Dean felt like he was being torn apart from the inside, besieged with images and thoughts and voices. He had to try and focus to finish this but didn't trust himself to watch Sam's back. He couldn't keep seeing Sammy die but that was all he could see, a waking nightmare that he couldn't escape.

The physical pain was a welcome respite, allowing him to focus on something else other than what this evil bitch was ramming into his mind. He felt the fire spread along his arm as his broken wrist jarred from the impact, his ribs singing along in protest. He saw the wood splinter and hit the axe down harder on the next swing, hearing Sam shoot off a round at the same time as he felt the stitches split open along his shoulder.

He concentrated on the warmth as blood seeped down his shoulder and chest, soaking into his shirt. The warmth soon gave way to pain but there was no time for that.

A hand grabbed his arm before he could raise the axe again and he stopped, confusion playing across his features for a second before reality hit him and he stared down at the smashed remnants of the wooden lid. "Can't beat overkill Sammy." He grinned at his younger brother, a moment's clarity giving him the chance to try and remove the worried expression from Sam's face. "Pass the salt."

They both paused for a moment to look at the gruesome sight. A skeleton lay curled up in the fetal position, the tattered remains of a gag visible as were ropes binding both wrists together.

Rifle still poised, Sam had just handed the salt container to Dean when all hell broke loose upon them. A whirlwind of dust and debris suddenly enveloped them, and Sam felt himself being picked up and thrown against the wall, this time maintaining his hold on the rifle. "Man this is getting old." He grimaced and cried out as a bolt of white pain went through his head when he moved and he felt blood running down his neck.

"Sam?"

"Finish it Dean." Sam's vision blurred this time when he stood on shaky legs and he blinked furiously trying to see if the ghost had again materialised. He saw their weapons bag flipped on its side, half its contents spilled across the floor but he managed to grasp the petrol container and tucked it under his arm before it rolled away across the dirt.

In the midst of the maelstrom Sam could barely make out his brother half leaning in the box obviously trying to shield the salt so it covered the remains. The ghost appeared and Sam took aim, the rifle unsteady in his hands from both the turmoil surrounding him and the probable concussion he had sustained.

It seemed that everything in the room was now shaking, the spirit using every ounce of power it had to prevent its demise. It was clearly stronger here, gaining its power and malevolence from the fear and agony that had occurred in this room so long ago. An innocent spirit so corrupted it now unleashed it own torture on those it came across. Able to bend and break the will of those it actually touched.

A dark feeling of hopelessness and unheard cries of despair now swept over Sam, almost too much to bear but he pulled the trigger with a true aim. Amidst all the movement however Sam only now saw with horror the implements from the table floating amongst the mayhem and then flying directly at Dean. His brother was now leaning against the box, head in hands not at all aware of the danger and Sam knew he would never react in time. If he reacted at all.

Without further thought Sam dived in the path of certain injury.

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The screaming inside Dean's head was like a physical punch and he dropped the empty container in the box and slid to the floor. He saw everything, every torture that had been inflicted on her besieged his mind, drowning out all rational thought.

There wasn't enough air left to breath as his own personal torture reel began, the worst images began a never ending loop. No matter how it played out, the ending was always the same. Sam was dead by his hand. Sam's blood on his hands.

He didn't even flinch as several nails embedded themselves in his body. He didn't cry out when a pair of matching daggers pierced his flesh, one just above his knee, the other in his side. Dean surrendered without struggle into blissful darkness and peace when a pair of pliers crashed into his cheekbone, releasing a small piece of white shrapnel that embedded itself in his shoulder. Any escape would do.

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Sam cried out as he felt the impact of countless nails hitting him in the side of his legs and body, his pain receptors finally going into overload and numbing the individual hits. The spiked chain however was a different matter and it burnt as his flesh was torn through his clothes across his stomach.

He landed hard on the floor and somehow managed to roll onto his back, pushing the chain off himself with a groan. Through a hazy fog somehow tinted red, he saw his brother lying motionless, defenseless. He struggled to sit up, squinting when black spots invaded his vision as his eyes instinctively swept the room, panicking slightly when he realised he had no gun in sight let alone reach. He placed an arm across his injured stomach, and got to his knees as the pain in his head threatened to blot everything else out.

A light went on somewhere in the fog when his hand touched the container of petrol and he almost laughed when his fingers had trouble with the childproof bottle. The lid finally turned and he hastily removed it spilling the liquid across his hands. The acrid fumes brought on a wave of nausea but also sharpened his senses a little. As he poured the container across the remains the whirlwind finally stopped, dirt and debris falling to the floor. He dropped the petrol bottle and for a moment the only sound was the bottle rolling across the floor, coming to a rest against the wall.

As Sam clumsily reached into his pocket for the lighter, a wave of nausea had him falling backwards and sitting on the floor. He looked up and froze, eyes locked on dead pools of insanity as black pupils stared back at him. The spirit tilted her mouth in a cruel grin as she leant over Dean and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Mine now." As she spoke, she pushed the small white object lodged in Dean's upper arm completely under his skin, unseen by Sam.

"No." Sam yelled as he drew the lighter, flicking the flint.

The spirit screamed and moved away from Dean, the sound almost splitting Sam's head open and he realised he had to finish this now. He got back to his knees as the first chair hurled past him, the second brushing his back but not enough to knock him down. He would have to put the lighter directly in the box – only two feet away now. His arm outstretched, the flame flickering in the chaos, Sam chose to ignore everything else.

As his hand finally touched the box, he felt a sickening pain just below his right shoulder and looked down in disbelief as Dean's hunting knife protruded from his skin. As his eyes glazed over and he released the lighter he heard a deafening crash as the cupboard missed him by inches and crashed into the opposite wall covering him in debris.

Sam had already succumbed to the darkness as broken wood and splinters were sent flying into the stairway and across the room.

The dust settled on pooling blood and broken bodies.

_tbc_


	9. Chapter 9

**The Ghost Within**

_**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Supernatural…obviously.**_

_a/n: Please disregard all incorrect medical jargon... not my thing! M'sorry._

'_Scuse the delay as well, I actually started Chapter 1 of another story – a random idea that now seems to be consuming what's left of my life._

_lb._

**Chapter 9**

The more he swam up through the thick murkiness towards the surface, the more the pain grew until he really didn't see the point. It was easier to just drown in the blackness.

Dean's body however had other ideas, his survival instinct automatically struggling to make sense of what was happening. As his mind gradually synchronized with his body, he became aware of several concepts at once, all of which set alarm bells off although he was slow in making the connection as to why he should be worried.

Sam? Pain. Smoke. Something wrong. God it hurts. Sammy!

His eyes fluttered open and he groaned, he could make out dim lights above him through the fog. All he could do for several minutes was lie there as each breath seemed to ignite another agony as his level of consciousness rose a notch. He finally realised he was looking at torches hanging from the ceiling and vaguely wondered how they had gotten there.

He felt so cold which couldn't be right cause where there was smoke there was fire. He could taste the smoke, so where was the fire? Where was Sam? Oh God where was Sam?

_Dead. You killed him._

Instantly in panic mode, Dean scrambled onto his side and lifted his head and shoulders off the floor, oblivious to his own ragged breathing and sobs of pain. The top half of the room was hazy with smoke from the burnt out wooden box that lay smoldering several feet away. It seemed to have collapsed in on itself in the dirt and he didn't even register how lucky it was that nothing else had caught alight.

Looking past the box, Dean saw his brother's legs lying still. That was all the incentive Dean needed to overcome his own personal agony and he got to his knees and began crawling.

He fell once, not really caring why he couldn't feel his left hand and why his leg wouldn't work properly, just angry that his own body was hampering his efforts. He screamed the second time he fell though, when the small dagger in his leg was pushed sideways in his skin and his hand brushed the second one in his side. Dean grabbed at each handle almost savagely pulling them out and grunting in pain each time. He didn't bother stopping to check the damage or stem the flow of blood from the wounds.

"Sam?" Dean got around the box and took a few seconds to try and deal with what he saw. "Sammy? God, no, no, no!"

He placed a hand on his brother's leg as he moved closer, touched a hand on Sam's face. It wasn't until he reached out and touched the knife, his knife, that he knew it must be real. His nightmare was real, he had stabbed his own brother. He let out a shaky breath as he saw that Sam was breathing. Hot tears ran through the blood and sweat on his face.

Dean came apart at the seams a little more about now as his already tenuous grasp of reality stretched to almost breaking point. Protecting Sam, it formed the heart of who he was but he had now betrayed that duty. From the outside, the only real sign of emotional breakage was the desolation behind his green eyes.

"Sammy you said it wouldn't be real. Talk to me Sam, you said if I heard your voice it wouldn't be real. You trusted me not to hurt you, I wouldn't hurt you Sam."

Dean wiped at the blood and hair on his brother's face, his eyes returning to the knife. He had to get it out, stop the bleeding. "Sammy please wake up. I don't remember…I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Sammy. I didn't mean to hurt you, please wake up."

Although almost numb with pain and shock, years of patching his brother and father up from countless battle wounds overcame everything else. As far as he could tell Sam was pretty banged up but the worst was the knife wound, followed by the bloody gouges across his torso. He crawled over to the duffel bag, collecting as many spilt contents as he could as he dragged it back over to where Sam lay. The medical supplies were scattered amongst the contents and he rummaged for the items he needed.

He pulled some bandages out but his left hand couldn't seem to grasp the flask of holy water. He gave up and used his right hand, noticing the tattered remains of his wrist cast for the first time. He placed gauze around the wound and pressed firmly as he slid the knife out of his brother and threw it down beside him. Keeping his injured arm on the wound, he placed the flask between his knees and used his good hand to turn the lid.

He had to use the holy water, he couldn't take any chances here – God he couldn't even remember what went down but Sam had obviously beaten the bitch. He used the holy water and was relieved there was no reaction so he changed to alcohol, quickly cleaning around the wound and applying a fresh dressing. He would have to use a bandage to keep the pressure on until he got Sam out so he lifted his brother's shoulders and sat behind, resting his brother's head on his chest as he somehow wrestled Sam's jacket off him.

He bandaged as firmly as he could manage across the wound and chest then over one shoulder so it wouldn't slip then repeated the process across Sam's stomach. He could see blood seeping through the bandages but it seemed to be under control. Dean's eyes wandered to the nails sticking out of Sam's leg and torso – he had to switch off, no time for this emotional crap. He had already fucked up enough, Sam had gotten hurt.

Soaking another piece of gauze in alcohol Dean began carefully removing the nails from Sam's body and then wiping quickly across each wound, nine in all and some in deeper than others. The holes left behind would have to be properly cleaned and dressed later. He paused, when he saw another nail embedded in his own leg as he moved to get up and grasped the top half of the rusty prong that was still above skin. He let the bloodied nail fall to the floor.

Although he gave a low moan as the nail came out Dean didn't really comprehend the pain, didn't even realise there was something else lodged deeply in his arm. Something in his mind was telling him that he deserved this but his only focus was to get Sam out. Then he could worry about fixing things so he wouldn't hurt Sam again. Ever.

_Sammy's dead and you killed him. Murderer_. Dean shook his head, trying to focus.

As he finished he felt Sam move his head and looking down he realised his shirt was covered in blood from where his brothers' head was resting. Supporting his neck, he lifted Sam's body enough to see a bloody gash through the mess of brown hair. Sam groaned at the movement.

"Sammy. Sam, c'mon please wake up." Dean moved to the side and using Sam's jacket as a pillow he carefully placed Sam's head back down.

_He trusted you._

"Dean?" Sam managed the one word before the pain took his breath away as he tried to move. He felt a hand on his arm and he managed to squint his eyes open to see Dean's worried and blurry face. He squeezed his eyes shut to try and clear his vision.

"It's okay Sam. You've banged your head up pretty good but I'm gonna get you outta here. You're gonna be fine."

_Tell him about the knife._

Dean took his cell phone out of his pocket, the screen was cracked but still showing signs of life however no signal. "Sammy I need your phone." Dean said reaching into Sam's jacket and finding the same lack of signal on his brother's phone, also noticing but unable to stop the tremors that shook his hand.

"Dean you okay? Help me sit up." Sam's raspy voice was barely above a whisper.

"I'm, I didn't mean…just hold on Sam. I'm gonna take the bag up first and clear the stairs then get you out."

'You didn't answer me Dean." Sam spoke quietly, Dean was not only being evasive but now Sam could see a little better he didn't like what he saw at all. Dean was covered in blood, his cheek swollen and one eye almost closed and Sam couldn't tell how badly he was hurt. He was also concerned about the damage that wasn't physical.

"I mean it Dean, how bad are you hurt?"

"Sam I'm fine, I'll get us out."

"Dean it touched you again. The spirit touched you before I could get rid of it." Sam looked at Dean through tired eyes blinking slowly. "I'm sorry."

"It doesn't matter now, you toasted it right? End of story, job finished." Dean could see that Sam's energy was flagging again and he knew he couldn't keep going much longer either. He grabbed a torch from the bag then retrieved the gun and rifle from the floor, absently shoving them both in the weapons bag. His face did not betray his inner turmoil as he grabbed the bag and moved slowly up the stairs, moving debris from the splintered wardrobe as he went and finally reaching the hole in the bedroom wall. He tossed the bag through and descended back down the dark passage.

His vision swam about halfway down and his body fell against the wall for support, the torch shaking in his hand. He could hear his own laboured breathing and realised as he started coughing that the smoke had drifted up the stairs. He felt lightheaded by the time he reached the bottom.

"C'mon Sam, lets go." Dean bent down and helped Sam sit upright, placing his brother's arm around his neck.

Sam bit back his cry of pain as he pushed his body to stand up, the muscles in his neck straining from the effort. Even his concussed brain noticed there was something wrong with Dean and he didn't want to lean too much on his older brother. God knows what injury Dean was hiding but from the blank eyes and unsteady movements, he knew there was more to it than Dean was letting on. Of course.

Dean finally climbed out through the wall cavity and half dragged Sam out behind him, noticing how pale his brother looked. Sam had his eyes closed and was taking short, shallow breaths obviously on the verge of collapse. Dean felt the shift in weight as Sam's knees gave out and he crumbled as Dean lowered him to the floor, next to the overturned wardrobe.

Dean allowed himself to stop and catch his breath reaching for his phone and then stooping down to get Sam's phone instead. Relieved to see a signal, he dialed the number of the last call received, his eyes resting on Sam.

'Mrs Stilton, this is Dean Mathis and I need your help."

He knew the hospital was no option, not only too far but too many questions and complications but he remembered Marg knew the local doctor. When she realised the boys had put themselves in danger again to destroy the ghost that she blamed for her husband's death she couldn't be more grateful. After several minutes, Sam's phone rang and Dean was given directions to the Doctor's surgery in town.

He steeled himself as he placed Sam's still unconscious form over one shoulder and somehow managed to weave his way down the stairs.

Dean hesitated for some reason as he was about to exit the house, he could see the car so close but his mind reeled with thoughts to stay and pain flared in his shoulder. Sam moved in his grasp reminding him of his duty and he staggered out the door, the cold night air chilling him immediately.

He placed Sam on the ground as he opened the car and retrieved a blanket from the boot, moving back to his brother's side when he heard his name.

"Dean, where…?"

"We're out Sam, it's over okay. I need to get you in the car so the Doc can check you out."

"Wait Dean. You…you're hurt, can't drive. There's blood…" Sam's glazed eyes took stock of his older brother. Saw glimpses of a blood soaked shirt beneath his jacket.

"It's mainly your blood, not mine. Sammy, if I'm breathing I can drive. C'mon." Dean got Sam to his feet.

"Wait Dean…"

"Sam, what the…?

"Sick." Sam doubled over and threw up on the ground, panting and gasping. Dean held onto him until he had finished, finally easing him into the passenger seat with the blanket around his shoulders.

Dean's mouth was drawn in a thin line as he kept casting sideways glances at his brother who was conscious but still groggy in the seat beside him. "Stay with me Sam we're nearly there."

Dean turned onto the main road and looked for the street sign he had been given. He knew the car was drifting as he drove, one hand on the wheel, one hand clutched to his side. He made constant adjustments with the wheel hoping Sam didn't notice the difficulty he was having as his head and body seemed to be shutting down.

_You'll kill him again. There's blood on your hands, always has been. Always will be_.

"Dean are you sure…the ghost, it's just she said something when her hand touched you and I'm worried you might…"

"What Sam? Worried I'll what? Hurt someone…hurt you more than I already have?" Fuck even his own brother was afraid of him. Rightly so.

"Hurt yourself Dean." Sam frowned trying to focus his thoughts, wondering what Dean had meant. "None of this is your fault Dean. How could you think…?"

"We're here Sam." Dean pulled up outside the small surgery, wincing as he hit a tyre on the curb. He reached across to open the door with his right hand 'cause his left hand had just about given up obeying any command that required grasping. He made his way around to the passenger side where Sam was struggling to stand and gripped his brother's uninjured arm.

As they made their way up the small path, the door opened and an older man with greying hair beckoned them inside. "I'm Doctor Schuman, c'min boys."

"I'm Dean and this is my brother Sam." Dean motioned with his head, his arms currently occupied with propping his bigger, younger brother up. "Thanks for seeing us Doc."

"That's what I do son. Marg told me what happened and well, I've lived here a long time and seen some strange things go on over at that house. If you've ended all that nonsense then it's for the better." He motioned Dean down a small hall and into a room equipped with an empty hospital bed.

He motioned to Sam, "Sit him on the bed and I'll see what I can do. Looks like you both need fixing up." He eyes traveled to Dean's bruised face and eye.

"He's got a knife wound in his shoulder 'bout an inch or two deep, concussion from a bang on the back of his head, a gash across his stomach and I pulled nine nails out of his leg and side. I'm not sure…I don't know exactly what happened or how long he was out but he's been groggy and he's thrown up." Dean rattled off the list of injuries, his voice low, lacking emotion.

"Well that sounds pretty impressive Sam, most folks would still be out cold so I guess you're a tough nut." The Doctor shot a worried look at Dean who had pressed himself against the wall and looked like he was about to fall down. He held his jacket tightly around himself as if to keep warm.

"I learnt from the best." Sam managed a grin which soon faded into a moan as the Doctor shone a light in his eyes that set a flare of pain through his head.

"Okay son I need you to lie down while I check these wounds. You're definitely concussed and you've obviously lost a bit of blood. I'm going to start you on a fluid drip with something for the pain and intravenous antibiotics. Sam, are you allergic to any medication?"

"No." Sam felt his eyelids getting heavy as his body and mind took stock of the trauma and pain but he tried to fight off the need to yield. "Dean's hurt, you need to look at my brother. Please."

"I will but you need to take it easy while I treat you and then I'll look at Dean."

"I'm okay Sam. Just…just let the Doc fix you up." Dean was having trouble concentrating on what was happening around him.

_Kill him. You know you can. You know you will._

Sam heard the hollowness in Dean's voice and he struggled to sit up again, confused as to why his brother sounded so…lost. It was over – wasn't it? They relied so much on reading each other, reacting to a tone of voice or a body signal that Sam immediately sensed that something was off.

"Dean?"

The Doctor placed his hand gently on Sam's shoulder, stopping his upward momentum and easing him back down on the bed. "Easy there, you need to lie still. I'm just giving you something for the pain while I have a look at this wound. Dean, why don't you grab a chair from the hall son. Looks like you could use a rest while you wait."

No answer.

"Dean what's wrong, what is it?"

Dean controlled his breathing and forced himself to calm down – forced himself to ignore the rivers of blood now dripping from the knife wound in his brother and forming puddles on the floor around the bed. Forced himself to ignore the fire and ice that was burning his shoulder and freezing his blood. He wanted to just slip down the wall and close his eyes but he had to make sure Sam was alright before he…before he what? There was something he had to do, something, but he couldn't remember. Something that would fix everything.

The buzzing in his head was making it hard to think and he nearly jumped out of his skin when the Doctor placed a hand on his shoulder and motioned to the chair now sitting alongside him. He looked at the Doctor and couldn't remember him even leaving the room. That simple fact alone was enough for him to doubt the reality of this situation but there was also another giveaway. This wasn't real, couldn't be real 'cause Sam wasn't dead and that's how it always ended. He sat in the chair, head in hands not realising he was rocking back and forth.

"Dean please man, answer me." Sam's mouth was dry and he felt himself slipping, his eyes suddenly weighted down with lead. There was something wrong, his brain panicked when his body wouldn't respond – he had to look out for Dean. Christ they had missed something. He had missed something.

Sam's voice sounded real and he couldn't ignore the desperate pleading which broke through his confusion and pain for a brief moment. Dean opened his eyes and the magical disappearing blood was gone again. He laughed or cried out loud, not sure which and not caring at this point until he looked, really looked at his brother.

He wanted so desperately to go to Sam and tell him not to worry and move that damn hair out of his eyes but he sat frozen, unsure whether it would just turn into another scenario for him to find a knife in his hand that he would plunge into Sam's heart. Dream or nightmare or whatever this was he knew it was going to kill him or drive him insane. And that was okay as long as Sam was safe, he had to make sure.

"Sammy let the Doc look after you. I'm, I'm just tired, can't think." As Dean watched, Sam struggled to keep his eyes open, gasping a little as he tried to speak.

"Dean stay here…don't…do…stupid. Not over." Sam's head sank back on the cold compress that had been placed on the pillow.

"He's okay just the pain relief doing its job, he fought it all the way." The Doctor cleaned across the wound, removing Sam's shirt and cutting the bandages away as he went. "This is deep and the muscle is damaged but he's a very lucky boy."

The Doctor stitched carefully and with practiced hands, noticing the various scars both new and old that marked Sam's skin. After dressing the knife wound he cleaned and stitched the ragged gashes across Sam's stomach, relieved to find none were as deep as he first thought given the amount of blood loss. He paused a moment to catch his breath, maneuvering Sam's lanky yet heavy frame to secure the bandage had sapped his energy. He was getting too old for this he thought as he gently rolled the boy onto his side to recheck the head wound.

He kept a wary eye on the older boy who still sat slumped in the chair, rocking slightly and breathing heavily. There was a sense of alertness, almost tension surrounding him that suggested extreme unpredictability however he was hurt and needed help. The Doctor checked the IV bag in Sam's arm, realising for the first time that several hours had passed since he had started work on the younger boy. He decided to leave the more minor puncture wounds for the moment and turned to Dean who had ignored all attempts to be coerced into a conversation.

"Okay son, I need to take a look at you." He cautiously placed a hand on Dean's arm.

Dean startled as though he had been asleep with his eyes open and maybe he had because it was like trying to move in molasses. He felt the Doctor ease him forward slightly in the chair and take his jacket off, he looked up into the older man's face taking a few seconds to remember where he was…Sammy. "Sam?" he managed to rasp out.

"Easy there, your brother's going to be alright - you did a good job patching him up. He'll have a mighty headache when he wakes up and he should rest to let the wounds heal but he's okay." The Doctor was momentarily shocked as Dean's jacket was removed and the bloodied shirt beneath was exposed.

Dean heard the Doctor take a sharp breath when he helped him remove his t-shirt revealing a colorful and varied assortment of agonies. "You should be lying down in a hospital bed alongside your brother. I had no idea. These bruises are healing but the gashes are recent and reopened and this…you've got a wound in your side. It's probably best if I stitch it as well."

The Doctor shone his penlight into Dean's face, careful around the swollen eye and bruising on his face. Mentally kicking himself that he had been fooled by the young man's stoicism, he was relieved there was no concussion to add to the already substantial list of injuries that were apparent.

"S'fine." Dean averted his eyes.

"It's far from fine and I think you need to come out and lie on the couch while I do this, I can't have you falling down…what's this?" As the Doctor stood upright stretching his hunched frame, he noticed a small deep hole in Dean's upper arm bruised purple but inflamed with a bright, almost pulsing, angry red. He felt heat radiating from the injury and grazed the skin surrounding the damage with a light touch of his finger eliciting an agonised groan.

The pain that sliced through him at the Doctor's touch seemed to fire along every nerve ending in his shoulder, arm and neck making his heart pound. Dean shuddered as a hot cold chill followed the pain. He wondered briefly why his shoulder hurt so badly but then all logical thought processes were again disrupted by a volatile mix of pain, shock and the final breakdown of any hold he had on the real world.

Images flooded his mind so fast his head spun and every time he blinked, a new horror was there in full technicolour for his personal enjoyment. The main theme of the display was obviously how many different ways Sammy could die, with back up performances from those he had not saved in a little trip down guilt lane. His own cries of horror mingled with those fabricated by his mind as he lurched to his feet, looking panicked and dangerous.

As he stumbled to the door, pushing the Doctor out of the way he had no lucid thoughts of what he was doing, where he was going. Unfortunately the seed of his demise had already been planted and was now stretching its roots into his subconscious and taking hold.

As it turned out even Dean Winchester had his limits. As he finally fell over the edge of the abyss, he was too far gone to even realise that he needed saving from the very thing he worked so hard to keep at bay.

The supernatural.

_tbc…_

_(Mwha ha ha – Sorry I felt really evil for a second there and had to let that out!!)_

_So…good, bad, too angsty (nah), really fugly??? I'd love to know what you think!_

_lb._


	10. Chapter 10

**The Ghost Within**

_**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Supernatural…obviously.**_

**Chapter 10**

It was quiet when Sam finally stirred and opened his eyes. The bed was hard but comfortable and he turned his head a little to see if his brother was up yet, wincing as the resulting pain made him squint and moan involuntarily. He was used to waking up to unfamiliar surroundings, each motel room different yet similar at the same time. The ease at which he treated these awakenings was usually due to the awareness of how he had gotten there, the flow of continuity. However for an uncomfortable few seconds Sam was at a loss, this was no motel room.

His memories finally decided to make an appearance, stirred up from the fog when pain also reared its ugly head and he realised he was hurt - and if he was hurt…

"Dean?" Sam cried out in pain as stitches pulled tight in tender skin and he raised himself on one elbow looking around the room and turning to the door expectantly when he heard footsteps. Disappointment rolled over him when the Doctor came though the door and he immediately saw the concern etched on the older man's face. "My brother, is he alright? Where is he?"

"Take it easy son, you've been out for nearly four hours." The Doctor took a breath, checking over his patient's vitals as he spoke. "Your brother he left a little while ago, I couldn't stop him I'm sorry. I had just started to go over his injuries, I had no idea he had been hurt before."

"What…where did he go?"

"I don't know but he drove off. He had bruising and cuts, I didn't know I thought he was just exhausted, concerned – I should have checked him out earlier. There was a wound in his side and something in his arm just below his shoulder and it looked bad, infected but as soon as I touched it he…" The Doctor shook his head.

"Please I need to know." Sam was fully focused now, any pain he was feeling had been pushed to the background by the anxiety that suddenly threatened to overwhelm him.

"Touching the skin around the wound seemed to trigger a massive pain response and something else…I don't know. When I first woke him he seemed dazed but coherent enough, the first thing he asked about was you. He let me begin to examine him but then after…he became confused almost delirious. It was like he was in a waking nightmare, he was seeing something and I think it terrified him."

Sam frowned trying to think clearly, logically but Christ this was Dean and this job was not over. Something still had a hold on his brother.

"How, how bad was he hurt?" It also dawned on Sam that apart from seeing Dean knocked out he really had no idea what injuries his brother had sustained during their most recent battle, in addition to those he already carried. Sam was also aware that the visible blood and gore would probably pale in significance to those wounds of mind and soul.

"Well his pupils were reactive but he still seemed dazed and without an x-ray I couldn't confirm if his cheekbone was fractured. He had a puncture wound in his side which I was going to stitch and possibly another in his leg but he's lost blood and he's not coherent. There was also a shattered wrist cast on his arm which I didn't see until his jacket was off – he needs medical attention Sam."

Sam slowly, purposefully swung his legs off the bed and placed his feet on the floor looking around for his shirt. "I need to find him now, the stuff that's going on in that house – it's not finished yet."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Adrenaline now pumped through Sam's body thankfully giving him the momentum to do what he needed to do. He impatiently waited whilst the Doctor removed the IV not really paying attention to the lecture he was being given although grateful that the old man was helping rather than hindering. His frustration growing when Dean's cell phone went unanswered.

Sam eased his injured arm and shoulder into his shirt, pausing only to do two middle buttons up before he took a breath and stood, grateful he was still in his jeans as he slid his boots on. Everything swayed for a minute before his body adjusted to being vertical and he turned towards the Doctor. "I need to borrow your car, I think I know where my brother is and from what you said, he's in danger and I need to get there fast."

Doctor Schuman paused, frowning at Sam's words then nodded gravely. "You're in no condition to drive but I can see you've already made your mind up. You think he's gone back to the house don't you?"

The look on Sam's face was answer enough and the Doctor walked out of the room, snagging a set of keys from a hook on the wall inside his office as he passed. "C'mon son I'll drive you."

Sam followed the Doctor out of the surgery, his injured arm protectively across his bandaged stomach. "You know you don't have to do this Doctor Schuman."

"Maybe I do. Maybe this is my way to help, I can't do much else nowadays. Too much hurt has happened to good people because of that damn house. I don't know if I can go in though…"

The car pulled up alongside the house and Sam saw the Impala already there. It was parked haphazardly along the gravel drive and the driver's door was still partially open. Not good. There was no sign of Dean.

"Thanks Doc, I'll take it from here okay and I'll get Dean to you."

"I can wait here if you want."

"No, it's safer if you don't but thanks."

Sam was already halfway up the path when the car drove off. He had pushed the front door open in his rush to find Dean when he realised he had nothing, no knife, no gun, no holy water. Nada, zip, sweet fuck all. Shit.

He ran unsteadily back to the Impala and checked the backseat and front, no weapons but he did see the keys in the ignition. He got the boot open and grabbed the spare rifle, stuffing extra salt rounds in his shirt pocket and wishing he'd brought his jacket. He shoved a lighter and a flask of holy water in the back pocket of his jeans as he ran back to the door.

Sam was sweating now and he felt the sting as it covered the raw stitches in his shoulder and across his stomach. He was trying to make some sense out of this but his thoughts kept straying to the promise he had made his brother. The broken promise that he would look after Dean, get him through this.

"I swear Dean I'll fix this." Sam vowed to himself. "Just please be alright."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was quiet and still. Waning afternoon light filtered in and Sam flicked several light switches on as he moved further into the house, stopping at the base of the stairs. Dean had to be up there but what the hell was he thinking, why would he come back here alone?

He took the stairs two at time then reached the broken door of the master bedroom, still no Dean. Sam squinted in the dimness then turned the light on wishing he hadn't as the light seemed to refract off his skull, making his stomach turn. God, not now.

Half way across the room he saw the weapons bag and was reaching for the salt and a torch when he froze. A yell of pain shattered the silence, a gut wrenching sound that was all the more terrible because Sam knew that voice belonged to Dean. Sam was suddenly spurred into action by the blind, driving rage to kill whatever the hell was hurting his brother. He ducked through the hole in the wall recklessly, the stitches in his shoulder already seeping blood and the ones across his stomach not far behind.

Sam charged down the stairs, cocking the rifle as he went and not caring how much noise he made. Thoughts of Dean at the cemetery holding his own bloodied knife came to mind and he prayed that wasn't the case again that he wasn't too late this time.

Sam stood in the doorway of the dank room, the torches he had hung earlier still glowing dimly. The ability to breath is gone for seconds as he took in the scene before him then his instincts and training take over, pushing any emotional response to the background.

Dean was lying shirtless on the bed frame, restrained with what looked like wire. His muscles were taunt, covered in blood and sweat and Sam could see his chest rising and falling rapidly. Thank God.

The spirit was next to the bed and turned her head to stare malevolently at Sam before curling long dead lips in a snarl. "Mine now. Can't have him back."

Sam had fired the rifle twice before his brain caught up with the reaction. The spirit dissipated but the air around seemed charged as the debris on the floor from their earlier encounter began to stir. He wasted no time and strode over to where Dean lay, eyes open but otherwise unresponsive.

"Dean? Dean?"

No answer, no movement. Shit.

Sam wanted nothing more than to stop and comfort his brother but the urge again had to be ignored. Finish the hunt first, get safe then patch yourself up before you start again. He could still hear his father's lecture after he had dropped his rifle on a hunt to check if his unconscious brother was still alive. He should have known better, nearly gotten them both killed but then he'd only been eleven.

She appeared again on the other side of the bed, flickering in and out like some bad hologram and seemed to concentrate on Dean. Dean's back arched up from the bed and he screamed as the stitches across his shoulder and down his arm were ripped out right in front of Sam's eyes in the fraction of a second it took him to aim and fire. Not before he noticed however that as soon as Dean reacted to the pain, the spirit seemed to take shape, become more stable.

The spirit's howl rang through the room as she disappeared and Sam grabbed the salt canister from his shirt and ripped the lid off, pouring a thick ring as quickly as he could around the bed. Okay think Sam, he berated himself, whatever is in Dean's arm must have something to do with what's keeping her here and she's taking her strength from his torture.

Torture, his brother was being tortured right before him. Fuck, get a grip.

He needed time. Time to get that thing out of Dean, time to burn it. Time he didn't have.

He dived to the floor as the small table by the bed was suddenly hurled at him, and he thankfully landed on his good, well not so bad side. He rolled on his back wincing as he rolled over the metal flask in his back pocket and grunted as he sat up, stitches burning as his muscles flexed with the movement. He stood up swaying, an idea forming in his head amidst the other jumble of thoughts and emotions he was trying to keep in check.

He began a basic Latin protection ward as he quickly grasped a salt round and doused the casing with holy water from the flask then loaded it into the rifle. He waited. Waited as the swirl of debris made his eyes water, he felt something sting as it hit into his knee but he didn't move. He waited until she appeared again at the edge of the rapidly diminishing salt circle and he fired at almost point blank, finishing the last line of the spell.

The stillness was nearly overwhelming but he had to get started. He had prayed that it would work but he had no idea how long it would last.

He stepped inside the salt circle, choking back a sob as his eyes surveyed the damage inflicted on his brother. The restraints across Dean's legs and chest that also pinned his arms underneath were made of barbed wire. Fucking barbed wire that had snagged and torn skin. Sam's eyes trailed over a stomach wound, fresh bruises and a nail protruding from Dean's swollen left hand that was still dripping blood but he focused on the wound high in his brother's arm.

"Dean? God I know it hurts but it's nearly over okay. Please just trust me and, and I'll fix this."

Nothing. Dean's half opened eyes stared blankly, his chest still rising and falling too rapidly.

Sam forced himself to breath as he mentally acknowledged the fact that he was going to inflict yet more pain on Dean. There was no other way than to cut the object out but in this case the end would have to justify the means. Again, Dean had to suffer to be saved in their screwed up world.

He saw Dean's hunting knife, still bloodied lying on the floor near the burnt out shell of the wooden box at about the same time he realised that his own knife was in his jacket. The jacket that was still lying somewhere in the Doctor's surgery. He moved quickly to retrieve the knife, wiping the dried blood off with his already mangled shirt and pouring holy water over the blade.

"I'm sorry Dean. God I'm sorry. I have to do this man." Sam couldn't stop to think any longer or he would lose the nerve, let his heart rule his head. He couldn't even stop long enough to loosen the cruel wires that held his brother captive, he couldn't risk running out of time.

Without further ado he steadied his trembling hand and made a cut into the swollen wound, seeing for the first time something about an inch under the skin.

He wasn't prepared for Dean's reaction as his brother tried to rise off the bed with a groan, pushing into the wire, his eyes widening as they found Sam. He was even less prepared when Dean spoke.

"No…no more Sam. Finish it. Deserve it I…I understand. Killed you." Dean was rambling, delirious. "Make it right, fix it. Please. Kill. Me. Make it stop."

"Dean no! I'm not trying to, God Dean I wouldn't …" Sam felt sick to his stomach but kept going, he had to save Dean from this, he had to. He ignored the screaming in his head, the anguish of knowing that he might be saving Dean's life but it was screwing his brother's head up even more.

He widened the cut enough to see something hard and almost white sticking up through the gore. He spied the pliers back across the room and thought they would do less damage if he could use them to grip and pull out the…bone? Christ it looked like part of a finger bone as it finally came out of the bloodied wound. With a final choked back scream, Dean sagged on the bed, eyes closed.

Sam felt the air crackle around him as he stared stupidly at the piece of skeleton wedged in the nose of the pliers. The air pressure seemed to drop and his ears popped as he realised he had run out of time and needed to destroy the only hold this bitch had on the world. Right now.

Improvising as he had done all his life, Sam grabbed the empty petrol bottle up and shoved the bone inside noting with satisfaction the strong residual fumes still inside the container. He grabbed a handful of salt from the floor around the bed and threw that in as well.

He ignored the mind splitting wail. He found it a little hard to ignore the fact he was suddenly lying on the floor, the air pushed out of his lungs but he still held the container and lighter firmly. His head and body protested in vain as he scrambled to his feet, noticing in a detached kind of way that his bandages were stained red.

"Burn you bitch." Sounding just like his brother.

Sam flicked his lighter on and dropped it inside, his hand singed as the flame ignited the fumes immediately and he let it fall to the floor. He watched as the plastic melted from the inside and the flames licked through hot and intense. Sank to his knees as the scream became unworldly, vibrating his nerve endings. Let out a shuddering sob when it was really over this time.

Stumbled to his brother with tears streaming down his face.

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Dean didn't exist in the real world anymore. His awareness was based on pain and a series of haphazard images that tore at his sanity, at his very soul. He was too confused to even comprehend what was happening to him as the spirit tortured his body and mind, gaining strength from his anguish.

Although he knew why he was being punished.

At first he had retained enough lucidity to make sure Sam was alright and even though he still wasn't absolutely clear whether that Sam had been the real one he couldn't take the chance. When the Doctor had touched the damaged skin where the bone had entered it was like an electric shock had gone through his body, short circuiting any remaining shred of self control.

He suddenly knew without a doubt he had to go back to the house to save Sammy. The ancient bone embedded in his flesh lured him, shaped his thoughts without the need for logic or rationale. All that it needed was to prey on its victim's greatest fear, worst nightmare, and it was long practiced in finding what it wanted. What it needed. It just usually didn't get a second chance to torment the same victim – they normally went away to die.

The spirit had once been an innocent. Not now. She had been flailed alive and driven to insanity through pain and torture then left to die a slow death in the dark, bound and alone. That was all she knew now, the pain and terror was all that was left. She felt their fears when she touched them and tainted their minds on contact with her poisoned soul.

This one was different. She owned this one now, he carried a piece of her and that hadn't happened before. The others had all gone away but this one would come back to die, to give her essence. She felt his approach and waited impatiently, hungrily.

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The room was familiar and a sense of absolute terror washed over him as his mind's eye showed him what had happened in this place so long ago. Screams and sobs that were not his filled his mind but he had no sense of self left to understand he existed outside what was shown to him.

He was pushed roughly onto the bed without any attempt of a struggle but was vividly aware of the pain as the barbed wire wrapped around him and was pulled taut. Icy fingers caressed his neck as the spirit bent down and appraised her victim.

"You will pay the price for your sins. For the blood on your hands I will make it right. Murderer."

Dean did not see the piece of wood suspended in the air above his ribcage otherwise he might have flinched or tried to move. His breath was knocked from his lungs as the wood impacted and black spots swam across his vision reminding him of dead eyes. As he finally managed to draw a breath, another blow landed across his abdomen and he passed out.

As Dean surfaced into near consciousness, he saw a blur of movement from the corner of his eye and again could not breathe as the hot burn and tear of the flail cut down his side, striking his hip bone. Tears streamed down his face unnoticed as his eyes closed once again.

There was no sense of time or rhyme or reason. Just her whispered words echoing through his now fevered mind.

His eyes focused a little when he felt a touch on his shoulder, almost warm, almost familiar but whatever it was just hurt him again. He saw the shape of Sam and knew his brother had come back to extract revenge, send him to hell finally, thankfully.

"No…no more Sam. Finish it. Deserve it I…I understand. Killed you." Dean had to let Sam know he was doing the right thing. "Make it right, fix it. Please. Kill. Me. Make it stop."

As he looked up at Sam he felt another shock of pain that blasted through his body sending him into blackness one last time.

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Sam stared at the bloodied body of his brother in front of him, he was both relieved beyond belief and absolutely terrified at the same time. Dean was alive but at what cost? The injuries he saw were bad, they had been inflicted in a way to create the most pain, the most suffering without death but Dean would recover. Eventually.

What Sam didn't know was whether he had been in time to save the Dean he knew or whether he had lost a part of his brother forever. Torture of the mind is a powerful tool and can break even those with the strongest constitution. However Dean had already been weakened before they even took this job, Sam just hadn't realised the extent of it until too late. He had ignored the signs, making it all too easy for Dean to dwell in his own private hell.

Sam placed a gentle hand on his brothers forehead, finally able to provide comfort too little too late. He used the pliers to cut loose the savage wire that bound his brother's chest and limbs and winced when he pulled it away from the flesh drawing blood. The denim had protected Dean's legs to some degree but had still left deep scratches that showed through the torn fabric.

"Dean? Dean please wake up. It's over now, really over this time. Please Dean."

Sam's mind went blank for a minute as he didn't know where to even begin, he had few medical supplies and he just wanted to get his brother out of this place.

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Sam was hazy on how he had gotten his brother to the car but he felt his body sag when he finally laid Dean down awkwardly across a blanket in the back seat. Although Dean's chest was bare he was too afraid to cover him with anything in case it caused more pain. Dean hadn't stirred at all as Sam had carried him out, his body lifeless in his brother's shaking arms.

Sam had run out of words. Dean was too far away to be reassured and to Sam, the words just highlighted the fact that he had failed miserably to make everything alright. Everything was not alright and until Dean woke up he wouldn't know if it ever would be again.

He braced one hand on the Impala as he made his way around to the driver's door and got in slowly, his vision blurry. He started the car and concentrated on the short drive to reach the surgery. The ten minute drive took nearly twenty and felt like hours. Sam felt like throwing up by the time he parked in front of the small building and was relieved when he saw the Doctor hurrying out to meet the car.

The Doctor wasted no time opening the rear door where Dean lay. "Good God son what the hell happened? I need to get a stretcher."

"No. No stretcher, I'll get him inside."

"No Sam you're nearly falling down yourself and you're bleeding again. Let me help you."

"No." Sam walked around to the kerb and leant in the backseat, carefully moving Dean into a sitting position. As he placed one arm behind his brother's back and another under his knees, Dean's head lolled against his chest. His brother's vulnerability gave him the strength to somehow carry him inside, following the Doctor back to the same room he was in not long before.

The harsh light inside made him wince but he gently laid his brother on the bed, placing a hand on Dean's arm, not at all ready to relinquish contact. He realised there were other people in the room and the Doctor was saying his name.

"Sam it's okay. You need to let us do our job. This is my wife Helene and our good friend Joanne, they're both nurses and they understand the situation so you don't need to worry."

"Sam honey, I need you to come and lie down."

"No. I'm not leaving him." He looked at Helene wondering why she seemed to be getting further away.

"It's okay, get the other portable bed in here. Trust me it'll be easier." The Doctor knew to pick his battles and it was clear that whilst Sam was still conscious, this was one battle they weren't going to win.

Sam felt so tired and so drained, his body was well past the point of exhaustion but his mind refused to yield. He felt a kind hand on his arm that steered him over to the other bed that had been placed next to Dean. He sat on the bed but he couldn't take his eyes off his brother as the Doctor and Joanne went about assessing his injuries.

"Is he…how bad is he? Why hasn't he woken up yet?" Sam at last voiced his fear.

"As far as I can tell there is severe abdominal bruising and abrasions, possibly cracked ribs and internal bleeding. His left arm needs to be x-rayed to make sure there's no further damage but that can wait until morning. I want to get him stabilised. His body has been severely traumatised from these wounds Sam, so I've put him on a fairly strong medication for the pain. Effectively it will keep him sedated for several hours. He'll be in a lot of pain and I've still got to patch him up so it's best if he rests."

Sam took in the details, too numb to thank the Doctor and too weary to protest the small sting as Helene inserted a feed in his arm to attach a drip. For the second time that day Sam felt himself slipping into an induced sleep.

_tbc…_


	11. Chapter 11

**The Ghost Within**

_**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Supernatural…obviously.**_

_a/n: Well this is it…hope you enjoy!_

_lb._

**Chapter 11**

Sam woke to dim light and muffled sounds, his body aching and feeling sluggish. He took in a sharp breath when he saw Dean unmoving next to him as he remembered the circumstances that had gotten them here.

He wasted no time pulling the drip from his arm and slowly swung his legs over the bed noticing he was wearing hospital garb. Whilst his whole body screamed at the movement, his head felt almost clear and he looked at his watch. It was just after eight in the evening, how could that be right?

"Dean. Hey Dean, c'mon man you need to wake up."

He placed a hand on Dean's arm without eliciting a response. His brother looked pale and exhausted and Sam couldn't remember a recent time that Dean had not been covered in bruises and injuries. It was obviously taking its toll, the body could only suffer so much before it relented and went down for the count. Sam absently rubbed his thumb over Dean's arm.

"Please Dean, I need you here. I need to know you're okay."

Sam had closed his eyes but jerked them open when he felt Dean's arm tense, the muscles suddenly going rigid. Dean took a gasping breath in and wrenched his arm free trying to scramble away, eyes darting wildly around the room and then landing on Sam. Dean started to hyperventilate.

"Hey, it's okay, take it easy. Dean just breath, you're alright now. It's over."

Sam attempted to place a calming hand on his brother's arm but froze when Dean flinched and began to panic.

"No, you're dead. Please no more, no more. Finish it. Please Sammy." Dean was shaking, trembling and his broken voice was begging.

Sam choked back a sob when he realised Dean was still caught up in the nightmare, pleading for an end to it all.

"Dean, no it's over, the spirit's gone. This is real and we're both okay. I'm not going to hurt you."

Dean shook his head, his mind not able to grasp the situation after being tormented time and again with similar tricks.

Sam didn't know what else to do so he moved swiftly. Before his brother could react Sam had wrapped his good arm around Dean's back putting a hand firmly around Dean's shoulder. Sam placed his other hand on Dean's face, gently turning his brother around to look at him.

"Dean I know this is hard but you need to trust me. It's over and I'm not going to hurt you and I'm not leaving. We're back at the surgery and the Doc has patched you up but you still need to rest."

No reaction.

"Dean please talk to me. I need to know you understand."

Nothing but rapid breathing.

"Sam?"

"Doc, he's just woken up but he isn't…I don't think he knows what's happening."

The Doctor entered the room, walking calmly over to Dean's side. He used the penlight and tested Dean's pupils then took his pulse, all the while speaking gently. Dean seemed frozen, trapped by his panic and the fact the Sam hadn't let him go. Wouldn't let him go.

"He's in a lot of pain, pupils are still dilated. Keep him calm, I think I'll boost his pain meds for another few hours. He needs to stay calm and rest." The Doctor walked quickly from the room to prepare the shot.

Sam clutched Dean, felt his brother shaking and rocking as he struggled with the concept of reality. Sam clung to Dean desperately, trying to ignore the look of terror that crossed his older brother's face. He wasn't used to seeing Dean this way and it scared the hell out of him.

"Dean, please say something. I need you to find your way back, okay. The things that you saw before, none of it was real, you didn't hurt me. God Dean, don't you dare give up. I know it hurts man and I know you're scared but you've got to fight this, I need you to fight this." Sam closed his eyes as he felt the frustration and worry and exhaustion overtake him. "I can't do this without you."

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Sam noticed Dean stirring for the third time in about ten hours and braced himself for the inevitable panic attack. His brother had been in and out of consciousness, each time unable to comprehend or trust what was happening. Doctor Schuman had begun suggesting therapy, worried that Dean had been pushed too far over the edge for either of them to manage. Sam knew there was no therapy that could deal with the things they had seen or done.

Sam put his hand gently on Dean's chest, careful to avoid the various wounds. As he made contact, Dean's breathing increased and he looked around like a trapped animal, still too weak to effectively push against Sam's hand.

"Dean, its okay just relax. This is real, you've got to trust me. It's over Dean. It's over and we're okay."

For the first time Sam saw Dean hesitate, a frown creased his brow as he squinted his eyes and looked directly at his younger brother.

"Sam?" Asking, hoping, pleading all wrapped up in one word.

Sam nodded and grinned as he felt a wave of emotion, relief wash over him. "Yeah man, what took you so long."

"You okay Sammy?" Dean's voice was still hesitant, fearful.

"Yeah Dean, I'm good. Are you…do you understand where you are, what happened?"

"I couldn't get out, everything was wrong. I kept, I…I kept killing you Sammy. It wouldn't stop. It hurt so much and I just wanted it to end." Dean reached out and briefly placed a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Please let this be real."

Dean looked down, closing his eyes and speaking softly. "Did I hurt anyone Sam?"

"What? No, no Dean. The spirit messed with your thoughts, made your fears seem real." Sam paused. "The only one you hurt Dean was yourself and I'm sorry I wasn't there to stop it."

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Dean's mind was starting to trust what it saw, what it felt. Each time he started to panic, waiting for the knife and Sam's eyes full of pain and hurt and then the blood…he felt Sam's hand on his arm or shoulder. He started to hope, to know that Sam was really here and he was okay. Sam kept saying that Dean would be alright and Dean wanted to believe that as well.

He wanted to trust Sam more than anything else he could think of but something stopped him every time he tried to talk. He couldn't burden Sam with this shit, not when he saw the depth of worry and fear in his little brother's eyes. Not when he saw the pain and anguish he had caused. Dad was gone and it was up to him to help Sam keep the faith, keep strong - keep breathing.

Dean's clarity came back enough for him to know that there was something wrong with him, wrong in his head. Every time he thought about what had happened over the past few weeks, months, years he would forget how to breathe. A horrible aching pain filled his throat and chest and it took every ounce of will he had left not to scream.

Dean wanted so badly to tell Sam how scared he was but he was more scared of what would happen if he did. If he started to tell Sam, he didn't think he would be able to edit the raw emotion that was slowly driving him insane. The thought of showing Sam how weak he was, the thought that Sam would stay with him out of pity, scared him. The thought that Sam would leave, terrified him. It was easier not to talk too much and just concentrate on breathing.

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Sam had barely left his brother's side in over 72 hours, not wanting Dean to wake up without him there. Afraid that the progress they had made would be for nothing if Dean thought he was back in the nightmare.

Sam had watched as Dean slowly began to believe the reality that he saw. The spirit was gone but enough damage had already been done and Sam knew he was way out of his depth but there was no one else. No one else knew Dean as well as he did, no one else could understand the sacrifices Dean had made. No one else could save Dean.

Sam was grateful his brother was responding, he understood Dean had a lot to work through but there was no way in hell he was going to let him suffer in silence, suffer alone. He had made that mistake already and it wouldn't happen again.

The Doctor had insisted they stay with him and had seen his daily patients in a smaller room next to his office. Much to Sam's surprise and relief, the small surgery actually covered quite a vast area and was well set up with x-ray and minor surgery facilities albeit not the most modern equipment. They had both been well looked after, giving Sam time to concentrate on his brother.

"Dean, the Doc says you're okay to leave today if you're up for it. We can go back to the motel, or hit the road – whatever you want man." Sam tested the waters. "We need to take some time off – rest up for a bit."

Dean looked over at Sam and paused, his younger brother looked so tired and battle weary yet there was still a strength of purpose evident from the stubborn set of his jaw and the piercing stare. As Dean watched, Sam's features softened and he smiled as he walked over to the bed and plonked himself down. "Either way, I'm driving."

Dean looked at Sam's bandaged shoulder and various injuries and, as much as he wanted to get the hell outta dodge, he knew his brother should be resting too. "The motel it is then…and Sam?"

"Yeah."

"Thanks."

"You don't have to thank me for anything." Sam shook his head in disbelief. "The only thing I did Dean, was watch you get hurt. I'm getting pretty good at scraping you up off the floor but that doesn't mean that I like it."

"Yeah, well maybe that's the only reason I keep getting back up."

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It had been more than five days since they had been in their hotel room and as Sam opened the door, a layer of dust rose and shimmered in the afternoon light. He looked back as Dean got out of the car and closed the passenger door then walked a few steps and placed a hand on the hood.

They had finally left the surgery, both amazed and grateful for Doctor Schuman's kindness, not only putting them up at the hospital but somehow securing their motel room for another week with no questions asked. It was also a relief not to be burdened with creating some kind of story or angle to get the job done and not get busted. Although the Doctor was obviously a man of science, he also admitted to being open to the possibility of there being more to life than could be explained away by theories. Especially after the things he had seen.

They had also been informed that their medical expenses had been covered although the good Doctor would give them no further details. Dean's injuries alone would have meant that the tab was a fairly hefty one, minor surgery, rebroken arm, cracked ribs, stitches required, x-rays to check for breaks and internal damage, antibiotics and pain medication.

Pain medication. Sam's thoughts wandered back to the start of this whole mess which seemed like years ago.

Dean hadn't spoken during the drive back to the motel. Sam parked and jumped out to open the door to their room, going over the instructions from the Doctor in his head.

"You okay?"

"Yeah Sam." Dean slid his hand along the hood of the Impala as he slowly walked towards his brother.

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The boys spent the remainder of the afternoon and evening watching television and eating the take-away that Sam had ordered for dinner. Sam watched as Dean picked at his food but at least he was making an attempt. Sam could see exhaustion taking a hold on his older sibling again but he knew the effects he couldn't see were the ones that would leave the most scars.

Dean knew Sam was watching his every move but he wasn't upset, he was far too tired to be upset. As long as Sam didn't push him it would be okay. He still couldn't focus on what had happened without losing the ability to breathe so he figured it was best left alone for the moment. Left alone until he could compartmentalise the pain and resulting emotions, shutting them back in the dark recesses of his mind where they belonged.

Sam had just finished replacing the various dressings on Dean's chest, side and shoulder and was securing it with a bandage. The shower had sapped any last remaining shred of energy from Dean and he sat unmoving as Sam worked.

"Do you still see her Dean?" Sam asked quietly.

"I can't Sam. Please don't…I'm, I can't not yet." Dean felt his breathing increase as he began to panic.

Sam regretted opening his mouth when he saw Dean's reaction. "It's okay Dean, I'm sorry man. You don't have to talk until you're ready. Just remember I am going to be here when you're ready. However long it takes."

Dean nodded in response wondering if and when he would ever be ready.

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It was just after 1am on their fourth night back at the motel. Most of their time so far had been taken up with television, eating, using the laptop or in Dean's case cleaning weapons and sleeping. Sam had welcomed the return of Dean's company albeit a little more subdued than usual but still complete with lame jokes and Dean's own brand of snarkasm.

Dean finally seemed to be reaching out a little and making contact and Sam was so relieved to have his brother back.

As long as no mention was made of the past.

Sam lay in bed listening to Dean's rhythmic breathing and hoping tonight he would sleep through without waking up suddenly in the night, trembling and sweating. He would just stay awake a bit longer to make sure, he didn't want Dean to wake up alone.

Sam felt his head nod down in sleep just as a blast of ACDC came from Dean's cell phone. He quickly grabbed the phone from the night stand between the beds and answered the call as he read the display – Bobby. He saw Dean stir under the covers.

"Hey Bobby."

"Bobby? It's Sam, what's up?" Sam waited several seconds before he heard a faint voice.

"Sam? I need your help son. Think I've broken my damn leg and still gotta hunt to finish."

"Whatever you need Bobby. How bad you hurt…really?" Sam frowned when Bobby started saying a string of numbers, his voice getting fainter. Christ co-ordinates, Sam frantically swept a pen off the table next to his laptop and wrote on the first piece of paper he came across.

"Keep talking to me Bobby. What kinda hunt were you on?" Sam was already plotting the co-ordinates on the map he had opened on the table.

Well there were three of'em, who'da known? I did the spell to make them corporeal, now there's one left but I winged it pretty good."

Sam knew Bobby was rambling which was not a good sign. "Bobby I need to know what you were hunting. C'mon Bobby we gotta know what we're walking into here, man."

"Black Dogs. You're walking into a wounded Black Dog son. That gonna be a problem?"

Sam stopped what he was doing and closed his eyes. "We're coming Bobby but it' gonna take us three maybe four hours to get there. You're gonna have to hold it off 'til then so you need to stay awake. Can you make a fire at least?" Everything in Sam's head was screaming no but he knew they had no choice here.

"Son of a bitch ain't gonna want to mess with me again. You stay sharp coming in y'hear? I don't wanna have to rescue..." Bobby's voice faded into nothing.

"Bobby? Bobby?" The line dropped out.

"Sam what is it, what's wrong with Bobby?" Dean sat on the edge of his bed having listened to at least Sam's end of the conversation to know that Bobby was in trouble.

Even as Sam began relaying the details, Dean was simultaneously getting dressed and checking his weapons like his brother. Dean saw the fear and worry that crossed over Sam's already drawn features and knew his brother was struggling as their lives were again thrown into the battle.

"You know we have to do this Sam, its Bobby." Dean began but was cut short.

"God Dean there's no question about going, Bobby's like…he's family."

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

With a small hesitation and a frown on his face Dean tossed Sam the keys to the Impala as they packed all their belongings into the trunk.

Sam caught them, relieved Dean had given them up without a struggle but also knowing if Dean wasn't up for driving a couple of hours he probably wasn't up for a hunt either. A Black Dog hunt just complicated things even further.

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Sam pulled up next to Bobby's pickup two hours and fifty minutes after the phone call. They wasted no time getting out and silently began donning jackets and back packs.

Dean sucked in a gasp as he slung the pack over one shoulder and the straps hit a cut. He fell into stride next to Sam and tried to remember all the important things about Black Dogs, namely how to kill them, and came up blank. He felt the scream start building in his chest but forced it back down.

"How do we kill it Sam?"

"What?"

"Tell me how to kill a Black Dog."

"Why? We know this stuff backwards Dean, it's…"

"Just humour me Sam."

"Okay Dean but you don't have to test me y'know. Salt will keep it away temporarily but it needs an incantation to make it take form, which Bobby has already done so we just need to inflict a silver bullet to the heart before the spell breaks. Happy now?"

Dean reached behind him and pulled the gun from his waistband, wincing as ribs and shoulder protested and various stitches pulled in his skin. He checked the rounds noticing with relief that all were silver bullets. He must have known this information then forgot it – what the hell?

"Dean you okay man?" Sam stomach was in knots as he looked at his brother's features in the glow of their torches. He wasn't sure what was going on in Dean's head but there was no mistaking the fleeting look of panic that had crossed his brother's face.

"Yeah."

Dean's memory snagged a few details during the next forty minutes or so, mainly those details he wished he could forgot though. He remembered finding Bobby, nearly unconscious from pain but still managing to keep a fire going. He remembered the howl that was too close and the sudden movement to his left as he turned, gun drawn. He even remembered being side swiped by the biggest freaking Black Dog he had ever seen just as he got a shot off and then realised Sam was now between him and the wounded, angry dog.

As he watched Sam fire two more shots, he saw a spray of red as the dog lunged at Sam and made contact before it landed heavily. Sam dropped to the ground and didn't move. The scream that had been building inside Dean for so long, could no longer be restrained. Dean was oblivious to his own emotion filled broken voice as he clawed his way up from the ground, firing repeatedly into the bloody animal as it lunged again towards Sam's body.

Dean was still pulling the trigger of the now empty gun when he collapsed without a sound next to his prone brother.

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Sam glanced over at Bobby who was lying propped up on one elbow watching him. Sam looked down, squinting a little as the movement sent fresh pain through his arm. Dean's head lay across his lap, his face dirt streaked, pale and too young. Sam placed his fingers alongside his brother's neck again, just to make sure.

"Sam, he's gonna be alright. You need to come over here so I can check your head and arm, you're bleeding." Bobby sighed and shook his head, at least the Black Dog was dead but there was something else going on here. "Sam, c'mon."

"Bobby I can't leave him. He must've thought I…Oh God it was too soon. I shouldn't have let him come."

"Sam he must have got knocked on the head when he was hit the first time and he just wouldn't go down 'till he knew the job was done. Just typical of your pig headed brother. Now git yourself over here now." Bobby knew sure as hell there was something wrong with the older boy. He had never seen Dean lose complete control like that before, even when Sam had been hurt. He bit back his concern so he could assess Sam's bleeding arm.

Sam placed Dean's head gently on the ground and went over to Bobby, kneeling clumsily in the dirt next to him.

"Your arm's still bleeding but its not too bad and you've got yourself a nasty cut on the head to match the other ones. Get something to wrap around your arm Sam." Bobby looked over the battle weary boy in front of him, regretting that he'd dragged the brothers into this but thankful he could rely on them. Always. He closed his eyes against a wave of pain and felt the sweat roll down his forehead.

"I need to splint your leg Bobby. We need to get out of here." Sam stood and walked into the nearby brush, glancing over at Dean on his way past. He returned with two sturdy looking branches which he used to support the lower leg break. He tied his jacket around both branches making sure they were held securely in position.

He stood and saw Dean's hand move slowly to his head. "Dean, hey Dean. You okay?"

"Sam?" Dean looked around. "Are you okay, is Bobby…?'

"Yeah I'm still here." Bobby's gruff voice brought the ghost of a smile to Dean's lips. "Still sitting on my arse waiting to get rescued but I'm good. You?"

"Help me up Sam." Dean took the outstretched hand and looked over Sam's head wound and the fresh blood on his arm as he stood.

He felt numb. No idea what had happened to himself and not really caring – Sam was okay, Bobby was okay. Was he okay? He felt…nothing. At least nothing felt better than the choking panic when he thought Sam had died in front of him like some cruel joke. This numbness would allow him to get Bobby and Sam out of here without falling to bits right before their eyes. As long as it didn't take too long.

"Dean what happened?" Sam walked beside his brother over to Bobby and they helped him up off the ground.

"I don't know Sam. I don't remember much, it doesn't matter now anyway does it? We all live to fight another day."

"I thought you were back in the nightmare Dean. I thought I'd lost you again."

"C'mon let's get this bearded damsel in distress outta here before he starts complaining." Dean glanced at his brother over Bobby's head hoping Sam would understand. Not here, not now.

Sam held Dean's stare for a second and gave an almost imperceptible nod. "Yeah, he's a real bitch when he's grumpy."

"You boys do realise that I can hear you. I have a broken leg I'm not senile." Bobby's hunter instincts knew when to leave well enough alone so he played along for the moment.

"God here we go!"

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It almost felt surreal to Dean. They had driven Bobby to the hospital, then left him there for x-rays and overnight observation. All the other details now eluded him but he remembered that much.

He looked around him. Sam was driving, one hand on the wheel and the clock on the dash read 3-10pm. He frowned and noticed Sam looking at him. He wondered where they were going, was he supposed to know that?

"Dean, you awake? We're nearly there."

"Nearly where Sam?"

"At the motel. Bobby gave us his room keys remember? We'll go get him in the morning." Sam bit back his concern, not wanting to stress Dean out more than he was.

Sam pulled into the almost full parking lot and cut the engine. They grabbed their packs and belongings and hauled them into the room Bobby had rented for this job.

The room suddenly felt way too small for Dean, he couldn't think straight, couldn't breathe and he had to get out. "Sam I'm just gonna pull the car up around back okay. There's a few too many people around this joint and we gotta be careful."

"Dean I'll do it. You shouldn't be..." Sam realised he was speaking to a closing door as Dean exited the room without waiting for Samto finish.

Sam sat on his bed in defeat, he felt absolutely fucking useless. He knew Dean was getting worse, the memory loss and disorientation being the latest symptom of a bitter inner struggle but what the hell could he do. Anything would be better than sitting on the sidelines with a front row seat as he watched his brother die from the inside out.

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Dean parked the car around the back of the building, driving onto the dirt and into the shadows of the smaller trees. God what was happening to him? He saw the way Sam looked at him like he was going to disappear if he looked away too long. Maybe that would be easier – if he just went…away. Away from the pain of always being left behind, to pick up the pieces, finish the fight, grieve the dead. There were so many, too many…

He cut the engine and slid out of the seat, grabbing onto the open door as his knees unexpectedly buckled and his back pressed against the warm exterior of the Impala.

He felt the familiar terror and ache in his chest and instinctively fought to hold it within but he just couldn't this time. His mind and body were just too tired, too overwhelmed.

Dean's breath caught in an anguished sob as he pressed his fists to his forehead and slid down the car to rest in the dirt. His body shuddered as he bravely fought a losing battle to stop the walls crumbling and keep his fears and hopes and pain from spilling out for all to see.

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Sam slammed his fist into the bed and stood, jaw set and a frown creasing his brow as he absently turned the television on and began flicking channels without looking. His eyes had barely moved from the curtained window as he anticipated Dean's return, knowing what he had to try. Again.

He couldn't let his older brother sink any further, trying to bear the weight of burdens that should never have been given to him. Never should have been accepted so willingly.

He had failed Dean so much. No matter how hard he tried, or how much he wanted with all his heart and soul to ease his brother's torment and protect him from…everything – he just couldn't manage to do it. He didn't know anymore what he was supposed to do or say. But he had to say something. Dean was…

Sam realised, his breath suddenly catching in his throat, that Dean had taken far too long to move the car. What if there were still aftereffects, what if, what if he was too late this time? No!

Sam burst out through the door, and sprinted along the narrow path leading to the side of the building, ignoring the fire that ignited in his abused body. His lungs screamed for air as Sam had barely allowed himself to take a breath, knowing something was wrong.

His pace did not slow as he came upon the car and veered around to the driver's side where he dropped to the ground without pause beside his brother.

Sam breathed. Hot tears clouding his eyes in relief as his immediate fear was dispelled only to have another rear in its place. His hand stopped in midair as he reached towards his older sibling.

Dean was half crumpled to his side, back resting on the Impala with one leg stretched out before him in the dirt. He was struggling to breath, his chest heaving, his whole body shaking, his eyes closed. Sam crouched further down, looking frantically for the source of his brother's distress.

"Dean? Dean, what is it?" He placed a gentle hand on the trembling shoulder in front of him, and was lost for words when his brother turned his head to look at him, dazed recognition finally showing in those green eyes.

Dean didn't speak, he didn't have to – Sam saw the bitter truth in those eyes. Whatever miracle had been holding his brother's inner walls up had finally and absolutely crumbled and Dean was being crushed underneath.

A tight fist around his heart made his chest ache as he saw the unrefined anguish reduce his brother to physical pain.

"Go."

One word somehow choked out as a hand reached over and pushed Sam away with surprising strength. Taken unaware, Sam fell back from his crouch to sit in the dirt.

"No. I'm not leaving you."

Spoken without a second thought. No doubt. No way. No argument, not this time.

Sam slowly inched forward until his back rested against the Impala next to his brother. Any words that entered his head were wrong, would not be sufficient to cut through the depths of the pain in those eyes.

Dean tried to move. He gained enough purchase in the dirt to half rise before his body seemed to protest the movement and he slumped back against the car, his strangled sobs momentarily ceasing as he slammed his head back against the car. And then again, hard. And again.

Sam instinctively grabbed Dean around the shoulders and moved them sideways so Dean was now leaning back on his chest as he wrapped his good arm around the front of his brother's body to stop any further damage.

Dean fought against the restraint, struggled ferociously as though he was under attack but Sam held fast, unwavering. Ignoring the pain now coursing through his own body, Sam gripped Dean as though sheer force could allay the fear and panic. His strength beginning to waver, he finally felt the resistance stop. Dean had nothing left, all defenses had been depleted.

"No." A whispered plea.

Sam loosened his grip as he felt Dean sag forward, felt the gut wrenching tremors take their hold as Dean was besieged with the flood of emotions held captive over a lifetime.

"Dean it's gonna be okay, I've got you man. I know this is hard but you don't have to do this alone. You're not doing this alone anymore."

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Sam didn't notice when darkness fell or when the ragged breathing ceased and became more even, more controlled. He didn't recall when he had leant his head back against the Impala and grieved silently with and for his brother. It was as though time had stopped, there was nothing more important right now than this.

Sam felt his brother shift off him with tired, slow movements and he let him go, relieved when Dean leant back against the car, shoulder to shoulder with him. An easy silence settling on them with no agenda, no hidden complications.

Sam brushed a hand over his face and through his hair, the movement making him realise his battle weary body had just about packed it in.

"Dean?"

A pause, as Sam held his breath.

"Yeah Sam."

"You're gonna get through this. You know I'll always…"

"I know Sam."

Dean felt gutted and drained and physically numb. It took all he had just to keep breathing but he also felt somehow stronger, finally anchored somewhere safe for the moment. He knew in his heart, had always known that his anchor was Sam. He now also knew that Sam believed it too. It was all a matter of trust. Absolute trust.

"Sam?"

"Yeah."

"Can't do this without you. You and…and Dad were all I had and now…"

"I know it's hard and it's gonna take a bit of getting used to but I need to know, I want to know when you're hurting man. We're stronger if we stand together.'

Dean took a moment before he spoke. "I'll try Sam but I…' Dean's voice came out rough, choked. "I'll try my best Sammy.'

"I know Dean. Just talk to me okay, let me be your brother, let me help."

They sat in silence, shoulder to shoulder for another ten minutes. Neither seemingly willing to break the contact.

"Sammy?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you help me up 'cause I don't think I can move?"

"That's not what I meant Dean about helping."

"So… is that a no?"

**THE END.**

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a/n: That's all folks!

The endings are still the hardest part to write!

Thanx for coming along for the (longer than anticipated) ride – hope it was entertaining.

Thanx to my lovely reviewers, every comment has been much appreciated and worth more than you realise from this side of the "pen". Would love to hear your thoughts on the ending.

Until next time…

lb.

14/14


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